


a couple of band-aids won't cover the pounds of flesh taken

by cancerthecrabbo



Series: Bit of a Detour Won't Hurt [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: AU, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beating, Caretaking, Childhood Trauma, Communication, Delirium, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Fix-it, Episode Tag: s01ep04 Man on the Moon, Exhaustion, Fever, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Klaus Deserves Better, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Physical hurt/comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Diego, Sibling Bonding, Sick Character, Sick Klaus, Sickfic, Threats of Violence, Torture, Trauma, Whump, man on the moon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2019-11-01 16:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17870684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancerthecrabbo/pseuds/cancerthecrabbo
Summary: When everything is just a little bit different, Diego gets to the motel just a bit earlier, and Klaus is found before getting on the bus, things get a little bit better once the Hargreeve siblings come to realize that Klaus is in need of more help than they first thought.(Written for maddie-anderxx on Tumblr)





	1. A Curveball Straight to the Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Craving some Umbrella Academy ! How about all the other siblings realize how fucked up Klaus is but actually care and it turns out that they didn't know that their father locked him in the tomb? And basically just some family bonding and fluff ??"  
> I took the liberty to combine this request with my own story that I wanted to write, which is that Klaus's trip to the future is held off for a little bit. So there's going to be fluff in the next chapter, or perhaps a third depending on how this turns out, but first, we have to work through the altered canon and everyone realizing that's Klaus is fucked up.

Walking into his room in the back, Diego can safely say that he did _not_ miss spending time with his brothers.  Luther has been edging into dangerous territory over and over again – and so has Diego – and Five’s bullshit attitude about basically everything is threatening to give Diego an ulcer.  It doesn’t surprise him that the universe would throw yet another curveball directly into his eye.

 

Al pops out from behind a door, prompting Diego to whip out a knife and come so close to throwing it that it clatters to the floor when his grip releases.  “You throw one more knife at me, I’m pressin’ charges!”

 

“Yeah- sorry, Al.”  Diego bends down to pick up his knife.  The boxing ring is deserted.  The lights are dim and Five has passed right out again in Luther’s arms. 

 

“A lady called,” Al says, turning back to the locker he was hiding behind, “Blotch or something.  ‘Bout ten minutes ago, said she needs your help and to meet her at the motel – that dump on Calhoun.”

 

“Patch?”  Diego freezes.  Luther turns back to him, about to open his mouth and insert his opinion where it isn’t needed, yet again.  Diego shoots him a look that promises a knife to the asshole should he try that shit.  “I need to go.  Stay here, I’ll be back soon.”  He tucks the knife back into its slot and strides back to the entrance.  Just as he’s going to pull the door closed, he throws over his shoulder, “Don’t touch my shit.”

 

* * *

 

Relief floods his body when Diego pulls up to the motel and sees Eudora’s figure inside the lobby.  She’s pacing, so he knows if he’d come any later, it could have been too late.  With that in mind, Diego rushes from the car and into the lobby.  Inside isn’t much warmer than outside but the walls keep the wind out.  It reeks of something indefinable but consistently disgusting. 

 

“Diego,” Patch turns, arms uncrossing and shoulders becoming marginally less tense.  “Let’s go outside.”  Patch glances over at the man sitting behind the desk.  She only starts speaking again when the door closes.  “I think the two diner people are here.  There was a van, it said, ‘your brother says hello’.  And you said…well, you can guess where I’m going with this.”  Her voice lowers.  “I need your help.”

 

Diego nods.  His eyes find Eudora’s.  He can’t say everything he’s thinking for a variety of reasons, but this he can do.  Something in her expression tells him she understands.  “That doesn’t make sense, though.  I found my brother.”  _Oh, fuck_.  Realization hits him like a baseball to the eye.  “Klaus.  I haven’t seen him, either.”

 

“Come on, then!  I was about to go on my own, Diego, I have a really bad feeling about this.”  He nods again and follows behind Patch around the corner.  They make their way up the stairs; Diego trusts her intuition and, to be honest, he owes her for being late.  So he gladly lets her take the lead, even though worry is making a headache form at his temples.  Klaus is just so _skinny_.

 

Silently, they stalk around the corner together.  Patch doesn’t have her gun out quite yet but Diego has two knives out.  Clutched in his grip, they can curve around any corner, sink into anyone’s flesh.  He feels adrenaline thrumming through his muscles with each pump of his heart.  His gut tells him Patch’s bad feeling isn’t just a feeling.

 

A cleaning lady looks terrified at their arrival.  As they make their way down the hallway, Diego keeps his breathing near silent to watch out for any noises.  He doesn’t expect it to come from a room, he had expected an ambush from the other end of the hallway.  When his ears pick up a faint thumping, Patch locks eyes with him for a split second.  It confirms what he thought.  He’s in there waiting for someone to help.  His brother, his weird, too-skinny, self-destructive, kind brother has been missing for a day.  And no one noticed.  _Diego_ didn’t notice.

 

Patch leans over to the cleaning lady and gestures for the door key.  The lady complies and decides it’s high time she make her way down the hallway as fast as possible.  Patch brandishes the key before slotting it into the electronic lock.  The little light turns green after a moment.  No light comes through the curtains, but Diego’s eyes have already adjusted to the low, bluish light of the hallway.

 

Inside is a sight Diego couldn’t have prepared for.  Klaus sits in a chair, wearing only a bloody towel and drenched in sweat, blood, and tears.  He’s tied to the chair by the wrists. The rope has rubbed the skin raw as well as broken it in some places.  Klaus’s eyes widen when Diego and Patch make their way in the room.  A couple more tears make their way down his cheeks and drip off of his chin to mingle with the half-dried splatter of blood on his chest.

 

“Fuck.”  Under his breath, Diego continues to curse until he stumbles forward and kneels before Klaus.  Something tells him he should be begging for forgiveness.  Instead, he carefully peels the duct tape from Klaus’s mouth.  He watches mournfully as another tear trickles down. 

 

Klaus sucks in a wet breath and tries to whisper, “Back there,” but dissolves into muffles coughs.  He jerks his head back in the direction of the bathroom.  Voices filter through the closed door but no words are clear enough.

 

Quickly, Diego sheathes one knife as he takes the other and slices through the rope.  Klaus immediately curls his arms into his chest and flexes his wrists, shaking profusely and looking tiny.  It’s too much – Diego can’t hold back the flood of entangled emotions that compel him to lurch forward and pull Klaus into a hug.  He wants to crush his brother against his chest, keep his arms around him until he stops trembling and looking so broken, but he’s been missing for too long to be uninjured.

 

Patch’s hand on his shoulder shocks him out of the hug.  Pulling back, and taking Klaus with him, Diego falls back beside Eudora.  The voices have stopped.  Now he has a choice to make: stay and kill whoever’s in the bathroom for doing this to Klaus or get out before anything else can happen to his brother.  It’s easy to make in the moment and he suspects that he won’t regret waving Patch into the hallway.  Klaus basically weighs nothing, so it’s not hard to pull him along into cover.

 

The room is quiet.  Peaceful, even.  The hallway is deserted.  Wordlessly, Diego shifts Klaus to hold him up with one arm.  He grabs two knives with one hand and gestures to Patch to watch his back.  With Klaus’s blood starting to trickle onto his shirt, Diego makes his way down the hallway.  His eyes seek out any and all movement.  Around the corner where they came from, the woman with the creepy bunny mask turns the corner with her gun held out. 

 

Diego’s knife proves to be just a bit faster.

 

It sinks into her throat in a way that Diego thinks is positively satisfying.  But the euphoria is cut with dread and worry.  He almost doesn’t want to know what happened to Klaus in the time that no one was looking for him.  But he owes it to Klaus – they all owe it to him.  While Five was being vague and getting drunk, everyone was too involved in their own personal issues to realize that _two_ brothers were missing.

 

Behind him, Patch’s gun goes off, and Diego makes the next decision he hopes to a higher power is the right one.  He lowers Klaus to the carpet and leave him to lean against the wall while he backs up Patch.  When he steps into the doorway, he sees the other one – Hazel or Cha-Cha – kneeling on the floor.  His face is stark white.  He must have been waiting for the rabbit mask woman to shoot them all in the fucking back while he played bait.

 

Fury fills Diego to the brim until he’s stalking forward with his knives sheathed and fists curled.  Patch doesn’t even bother telling him not to kill the dude – she already knows that if Diego wanted him dead, he’d be dead.  No, no, he wants to inflict pain.  Diego knocks him over with the first punch and then straddles his chest while raining down as many punches as he can throw in the few seconds that Patch will allow him.

 

The man is dazed and bloody but not nearly in enough pain for Diego’s tastes when Eudora calls out, “Diego.  Enough.  Your brother.”

 

And it’s all she needs to say before he’s turning on his heel and at Klaus’s side in two seconds flat.  He’s completely unconscious, limp against the wall.  _Fuck it_ , Diego thinks, and scoops his brother up in the same way Luther had carried Five down the alleyway.  He’s not sure that Klaus won’t throw up but it doesn’t matter.  Diego’s heart clenches at the reminder that his brother is so unhealthy.  He weighs about as much as Five does – a literal child.  

 

All seven of them may have been born on the same day but the dynamics somehow fit to make Diego feel protective of Klaus.  Maybe it’s his power, which isn’t as outright deadly as super strength or mind control, or maybe it’s his slight frame and penchant for breaking gender stereotypes in dangerous, fun ways.

 

Either way, he walks out of the motel with Klaus in his arms and a pit opening up in his stomach.

 

* * *

 

“Sorry I was late,” he says when they arrive at his car.  “And thanks for…everything.”  He nods in gratitude when she opens the passenger door for him.  Making sure to keep Klaus’s elbows and knees and head from banging into the car, he deposits his brother into the passenger seat and closes.  Tearing his eyes away, he suddenly has the urge to hug Patch, too.  Tonight could have turned out differently.  If he was late and Patch went on ahead without him, well, something worse could've happened.  Bad enough that he doesn’t want to think about it.  So he reaches out and brushes Eudora’s arm.

 

“I’m just glad we found your brother.  I’ll call the station, get some backup to deal with, ah, all of this.  Call me later, update me.”  At his confusion, she continues, “About your brother.  They probably —”

 

“Yeah.”  Diego breaks eye contact and looks down at his crossed arms.  “I will.”  With their history, Diego doesn’t need to say much for her to know what he’s thinking.  At the moment he doesn’t exactly feel inclined to cover up his body language or expression.  Maybe he won’t admit it out loud but it has to be obvious that he’s shaken up.  Even if Eudora couldn’t read him like a pro, anyone would be off-kilter after finding their brother tied up, mostly naked, and beat to shit.  “Hey,” he says as he’s brushing around the front of the car, “I’m glad you called me.”

 

“So am I,” she says. 

 

With that, he slides into the driver’s seat and closes the door.  Diego pulls out of the parking lot with one final glance in her direction.  Once on the road, he speeds up to the very limit of 55 miles per hour.  Getting pulled over with the knives strapped to his body and Klaus passed out with only a towel on would definitely mean a detour to the police station and he’s not willing to wait any longer to get to the mansion.  With Hazel and Cha-Cha out of commission, it’s no longer dangerous to regroup there. 

 

He texts six numbers he hadn’t been planning on using ever again.  _Mansion is safe again._   _Get your asses there pronto.  911 emergency.  If anyone’s missing I’ll go batshit at a later date._   Diego throws his phone in the cup holder and ignores the resulting frantic buzzing.  If they have questions, they can ask away when Klaus is being taken care of in the mansion.  His priority is Klaus, not to cater to their fucked up, emotionally-stunted, egocentric feelings. 

 

Klaus is still as stone in the passenger seat.  In a moment of weakness that snuck up on him, Diego wraps his hand around his brother’s wrist, fingers resting at his pulse point. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably be three chapters at most, with the next one being the longest most likely. It'll deal with a lot of stuff so please forgive me if it takes me a bit to write it. Remember to leave a comment <3 They feed my inspiration and motivation!  
> Here's my tumblr for anything that y'all may need, like suggestions, prompts, or whatever else:  
> whumpisawonderfulthing.tumblr.com  
> Thanks maddie-anderxx for the request!!! <3


	2. An Irrational Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego and Klaus get back to the mansion where the rest of the Hargreeves are waiting.

On the way to the mansion, Klaus develops a fever.  Diego noticed about halfway there when his brother started sweating anew.  Little noises of discomfort slip out of Klaus even while so deeply asleep - a testament to his ill state.  His cheeks are flushed, splotches of red highlighting the sharp curve of his cheek, standing out against his otherwise pale skin.  Diego reaches his hand over and checks his temperature for the fifth time.  He hadn’t completely expected a change in temperature – at least not one so drastic – but when his palm slides carefully over Klaus’s forehead, worry spikes through him.  Heat radiates from Klaus, unrelenting and only getting stronger, undeniably causing discomfort to his brother.  To make matters worse, Diego doesn’t really know what to do.  If he turns the heat up just to see if it helps stop Klaus’s shivering, he could get much, much worse.  If he turns the air conditioning on, would that make him sicker?  Internally, Diego curses his lack of knowledge. 

 

When Mom took care of him and his siblings years ago, he didn’t exactly take notes.  The older he got, the less Diego was interested in interacting with people.  Reginald’s “parenting” had worn him down alongside the other six; it had been most obvious in Vanya, Diego, and Klaus due to their personalities.  Five was so cynical even as a child that he routinely fought back with a venomous tongue and sharp words and he wasn't around as long as the rest of them.  Luther and Allison were infuriatingly self-involved.  The former seemed to think Reginald loved him; the latter was angry but eventually apathetic.  Ben…probably got the worst of it.  Plus, what truly continued to scratch away Ben’s innocence and any chance at developing normally was his power.  The curse he was born with did irreparable damage to his psyche long before Reginald did.  The remaining three, including Diego, lashed out differently.  Vanya’s self-worth had been beaten on so often and by everyone around her that it had simply dissolved like a beach-side rock eroded after millennia of storms.  Klaus’s whole life has been one long tail-spin ever since they discovered his tricky little power; something happened when he was thirteen, something that no one knows about, that instigated the long, spectacularly horrifying train wreck.  Whatever it was, Klaus had thrown away all sense of shame and turned to anything and anyone that could make him numb.  It seemed his primary goal in life shifted to forgetting everything – or maybe just one thing.  Diego had become a violent little shit quite young and it was all downhill from there.  He rebelled against Reginald and Luther because they were the ones maintaining the status quo of abuse.  Vigilante crimefighting became a logical career for him.

 

Shaking his head, Diego dispels the thoughts and brings his mind back to the road.  He basically zoned out for the last of the drive which, while it is pretty dangerous, is relieving.  He can’t summon much patience on a good day but when he’s got his hurt, sick brother in the passenger seat, it doesn’t feel _right_ to be patient.  In fact, Diego knows that he has a right to be more upset than is rational.  

 

This isn’t a rational situation.  

 

Nobody looked for Klaus when he needed them and it’s no different from the lack of support throughout their whole lives.  Maybe if all of them hadn’t written Klaus off as an addict with no future, he would have gotten the strength from his supportive siblings to kick the drugs and alcohol.  Instead they all turned away while Klaus went out into the streets and threw his life away.  It wasn’t quite inaction that led to this disaster – no, it was a choice made unanimously.  Now there’s no way they can ignore the spoiled, rotten fruit of their labors.  And no matter how terrible it may be to have to sit down and accept their failure, it can only get better if they do that and more.  Diego will make it explicitly clear that there is no other option than to wade through the layers of damage with Klaus and right their wrongs.

 

But first, Diego has to make sure Klaus lives through the night.  Stepping out of the car, Diego grabs a discarded jacket from the backseat and drapes it over Klaus’s shoulders.  It hangs off of his shoulders the way Mom’s soft pink cardigan used to.  Diego tucks it tighter around Klaus and in the process, he’s able to see how his brother’s ribs stick out.  His first instinct is to ignore it, but he knows it’s something he has to acknowledge.  Instead, he catalogs it, knowing it’ll be solid evidence of how badly they’ve let down Klaus. 

 

The temperature outside has dropped but Klaus’s fever hasn’t so Diego hastens his pace and gently scoops his brother out of the car.  He pushes the door closed with his hip and makes sure to keep Klaus’s knees together for fear of the towel slipping away.  A thought strikes him suddenly: why the _fuck_ is he only wearing a towel?  Had Hazel and Cha-Cha…?  No, they must have only tortured him from the waist up, that’s why he’s still wearing a towel.  It’s the familiar green of the mansion’s bath towels that Diego remembers.  They hadn’t removed it, they hadn’t hurt his brother that way.  If those masked freaks dared do such a thing to Klaus, Diego swears to whatever higher power there is, he _swears_ that if he finds out they did, there would be hell to pay.  He would do unspeakably violent things to the man he had spared.

 

Diego realizes he’s been squeezing Klaus tighter to his chest and quickly breathes in deeply, trying to dispel the apocalyptic fury that had begun to rise in his throat like bile.  Thankfully, the streets are empty, so he isn’t bothered on the short walk from his car to the gate.  He leans back and kicks the gate in, careful not to jostle Klaus.  He steps through and takes one last deep breath.  His focus is Klaus, not the shitshow that’s about to go down.  Judging by the distance from the motel to the mansion, Diego is probably the last one to arrive, so he’s about to walk into a clusterfuck of his messed-up siblings in a frenzy.  His phone is still buzzing angrily in his pocket but he pays it no mind.  He doesn’t intend to make this any easier for the five idiots in the mansion.  For Klaus, of course he’ll do anything his brother needs, but he has no reservations in regards to biting anyone else’s head off.

 

His footsteps are loud as he ascends the concrete stairs.  Then, faced with a door and with his arms full of his shivering, feverish brother, Diego can’t help but spit out a curse.  “Shit!”  Klaus whimpers quietly at his shout and turns his head into Diego’s shoulder.  He gives a particularly worrying shiver and then settles back into Diego’s arms.  “Sorry, sorry.  I’m sorry.  Just got a little frustrated.”  He knows Klaus isn’t listening, not really, but his voice seems to calm him down.  Diego sighs and leans back again, this time lifting his heavy boot up and practically slamming his heel down on the doorknob.  The brute force combined with the surface area of his boots does the trick.  The door flings open.

 

Diego steps into the mansion, ignoring the bolt of discomfort that comes with being within these walls again.  He doesn’t have time for this.  He shifts his hand around to cover Klaus’s ear and delicately presses him closer.  “Pogo!”  He shouts, hoping that covering Klaus’s ears is enough, but another part of him hopes that his brother’s eyes will pop open and he’ll be awake and fine.  Miracles never do seem to happen to the Hargreeves, at least not past the 'whole born on the same day' thing.  With his presence announced to everyone in the mansion, Diego kicks the door closed, careful not to let it slam.  He makes his way to the living room and wishes that Klaus was heavy enough to make him tired by now. 

 

The living room holds the rest of his siblings, even Vanya.  A rush of regret fills him when he realizes the last time he saw her, he’d lashed out and called her a liability.  He’d been angry that the mansion had been broken into and that they’d failed to kill the intruders.  It hadn’t really been her fault.  There’s no time for apologies at the moment, though, and he calls for Pogo again.  Pogo is at the base of the stairs, face drawn and pace frantic. 

 

“What happened?”  Pogo reaches a hand out to touch Klaus’s face.  Diego lets him fuss for a second before turning to face his stunned siblings.

 

“Stay put,” he barks, “We’ll talk later.”  He strides past the clump of Hargreeves in the living room and straight into the next room where they were always patched up after missions.  Luther tries to call after him but he ignores it quite easily.  Five, on the other hand, is not so easy to ignore when he blinks into existence in front of him.  Diego keeps walking, nearly running Five right over, and goes to lay Klaus down on the bed.

 

“Diego.  Diego!  He’s not bleeding out, you idiot, just stop for a second, will you?”  Five bangs his fist on the table, making the instruments on it rattle.

 

“No.”  Diego’s voice is cold but filled to the brim with anger.  “Our standards shouldn’t fucking be ‘he’s not dead’.  Look at him, Five!”  His shout reverberates through the room and silences the growing chatter.  “That’s our fucking brother.  While Luther and I were looking for you – while you were getting drunk and jerkin it to a mannequin or whatever – Hazel and Cha-Cha were doing _that_ to Klaus.  So I’m not going to listen to your stupid apocalypse bullshit until he’s not naked and bloody!”

 

It was then that he started to think that maybe lowering his voice would be good.  “Diego,” Pogo murmurs.  He turns and instantly pales.  Klaus is sitting up, though his arms are shaking and his eyes are clouded over with fever.  Slowly, Diego steps back to the bed and reaches out to wrap an arm around Klaus’s shoulder.

 

“Diego?  Where…”  Then, all at once, Klaus goes limp in his arms.  Diego keeps him from hitting the bed with ease, wrapping his other arm around his brother.  Klaus groans breathlessly, his head lolling back but eyes staying half open.  “Hurts,” he squeaks. 

 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Diego lays him back on the bed, “It’ll be okay, Klaus.  Just go back to sleep.”  He cards his hand through Klaus’s curls, feeling the heat on his forehead.  Klaus fights to stay awake but he can’t help the exhaustion dragging his eyes closed.  Diego pulls away only when he’s sure Klaus won’t wake up again.  He then turns to face his siblings which have silently gathered in the room with a glare heated and pointed enough to force all of them out. All except for Vanya.

 

It’s always been like that – ‘except for Vanya’.  She was never running around with them after Reginald started locking her away.  He never thought too hard about it, he just knows that their adoptive father had screwed her up, too.  After that, it became routine to barely remember to tack her on at the end.  She trailed behind at best and was utterly forgotten at worst.  Even now she’s the exception.

 

But she isn’t missing this time.  “I want to help,” she says.  Her eyes give away nothing but worry.  She’s tiny compared to them, all of them, but standing before Diego now with her shoulders squared and set with determination, she’s not the runt.  Vanya didn’t let Diego push her out into the living room, and not even Luther had resisted his fury.  Diego assumes she’ll help no matter what he says. 

 

He stares her down for another beat.  Then, he lets his hackles lower and relaxes marginally, enough for Vanya to nod and join him and Pogo.  “Hey, Klaus,” she says softly. 

 

Klaus turns to gaze at her with wide, glazed eyes.  He blinks and whispers, “Hi.”  It proves to be too much for him and he immediately falls unconscious.  Klaus relaxes deeper into the pillow.

 

Diego holds back a sigh of relief.  Though it’s hard to see him so weak, taking care of Klaus will be much easier if he isn’t awake.  Part of it is the fact that none of them have really taken care of each other since they were young.  Even then, Mom and Pogo always eased the way and provided the real care, the stitches and soup, while Diego and his siblings sat at each other’s bedside.  It’s unfamiliar and definitely not as easy as riding a bike.  Especially after not seeing each other for so long, the dynamics don’t fit as easily as they did before.  Before Ben died, things were as perfect as they could be, and after that, it took a while to fit together again as siblings.  Once people started leaving – starting with Vanya – it became apparent to all of them that trying so hard to course-correct a sinking ship only led to more heartbreak.  And the Hargreeves children all have had more than their fair share of heartbreak already.  The other more tangible issue that’ll be avoided with Klaus being out cold is the pain of caring for the wounds.  There’s a chance that giving Klaus any serious painkillers could go badly due to his history of self-medication. 

 

Pogo gives Vanya a look and then glances at the towel loosely wrapped around Klaus's waist.  After a moment, her eyes widen in realization and she turns on her heel.  Pogo tosses the towel into a waste bin and quickly spreads a new white towel over Klaus.  It leaves most of him uncovered so that they can assess the damage.  Klaus is still lying on Diego’s coat but it doesn’t obstruct their view and, honestly, he’d feel like a monster if he took away his coat while Klaus sleeps.

 

The first thing that Diego sees is the deep bruising centered on Klaus’s torso.  While Pogo and Vanya fetch a bowl of water and some rags, he studies the dark blue and purple splotches all over Klaus’s chest and stomach.  His face is bruised, too, and there’s a cut across his nose but it doesn’t seem broken.  One eye is a bit swollen but it’s nothing an ice pack won’t fix.  Klaus’s cheeks are littered with small cuts that Diego _knows_ are from being punched over and over again.  His hair is also soaking wet, too wet to just be sweat, and the first thing that comes to mind is waterboarding. 

 

Diego steps away from the bed and smashes his fist into the wall. The resulting sound makes Vanya and Pogo jump but he couldn’t care less.  Those slimy motherfuckers tortured his brother for information he didn’t even have.  He’s struck with a sudden urge to go back to the station and finish off the one he spared.  That son of a bitch doesn’t deserve his mercy.

 

“Come on,” Vanya says, holding out a rag.  It’s a sad-looking olive branch, but he accepts it anyway. 

 

Pogo takes care of disinfecting the worst of the cuts.  Klaus doesn’t fidget as much as he did before, probably because he’s so exhausted, which is worrying on its own, but it’s definitely the lesser of two evils.  But it doesn’t make it any easier to watch Pogo freeze for a good five seconds when he gets to Klaus’s hands.

 

Maybe Hazel and Cha-Cha didn’t make much progress with this technique.  Maybe that’s why Klaus still has most of his nails left.  They must have started with his right hand because the fingers they targeted are his pinky, ring, and middle finger.  The fingers are covered in blood that has dried.  Pogo shakes his head and continues on, dipping Klaus’s right hand in a small bowl of warm water to dissolve the blood without having to painfully rub it away.  Then, they clean away as much grime as they can short of dumping Klaus in a bath.

 

Vanya and Diego stay while Pogo goes to fetch some clothes for Klaus.  They’ll undoubtedly be the softest pieces of clothing any of them have had the pleasure of touching.  Pogo always took care of them just as much as Mom did. 

 

Standing next to Vanya reminds him of the harsh words he let slip out the last time they saw each other.  “Hey.”  Once he starts he almost regrets speaking.  There’s a lot to unpack right now.  He hopes he doesn’t misstep again.  “I’m…I’m s-sorry.  About the other day.  I know it’s no excuse, but I was worried.  Hazel and Cha-Cha could have killed you—”

 

“I’m sorry, are their names really Hazel and Cha-Cha?”

 

“…Yeah.”  She raises her eyebrows good-naturedly and doesn't interrupt again.  He has to get this out.  Deep down he knows that they also need to right some wrongs with Vanya.  Right now his priority is still Klaus but there are still years of neglect and nastiness to be acknowledged and apologized for.  “I said something I didn’t mean because I wanted to scare you away from this situation.  They came into our home and attacked our family and even Luther almost didn’t make it out.  But I shouldn't have lashed out at you.  So, I’m sorry.  For everything.”

 

It’s a while before she says anything.  When she does, it’s quiet.  “I accept your apology.”  It’s all she says and Diego knows she thought about it deeply in the minutes when they were silent.  It’s more than apology, after all, so it’s more than acceptance.  The shortness of her acceptance doesn’t faze him in the least.  There’s a whole world of emotions behind those four hushed words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've realized this is gonna be longer than I intended haha...because we haven't even gotten to the juicy bits. Unfortunately, my schedule is getting hectic so finding time to sit down and write will be hard - not to worry! You guys won't really be affected by that, hopefully, but it does mean I'll need your understanding if I update somewhat later than is desired. Plus, comments and stuff are lovely for motivation! Truly, I've been blown away by the support so far. Please keep it up!  
> Heres my tumblr where you can find updates and stuff <3 whumpisawonderfulthing.tumblr.com


	3. A Full Attendance of Siblings Frothing at the Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus wakes up in the mansion and realizes that something is off about attendance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Implied/Mention of Prostitution]  
> [Mentions of Drug Addiction]  
> Things are gonna get dark in this chapter...

It’s not unusual for Klaus to wake up in pain.  He usually does, and when he wakes up from a quiet, dark place in the blazing and blue-lighted ambulance, he’s in a _lot_ of pain.  He never likes waking up like that – gasping for breath with electricity in his chest.  On more normal days he wakes up anywhere from a cold alleyway to the rehab center to some stranger’s couch or floor.  It’s scarier to wake up in someone’s house than an alleyway, to be honest.  Klaus has trouble remembering why he is where he is most of the time, too, what with his night being full of intoxication. 

 

Somehow, today’s pain is different. 

 

It’s so much softer than usual.  He can handle it without wanting to cry or just curl up and sleep forever.  He’s actually warm for once.  It must be the clothes he’s wearing; they’re soft and cover more skin than he’s used to.  Compared to his other outfits, he must look pretty plain in just a t-shirt and sweatpants.  They fit him like a favorite pair of pajamas.  The pants are cuffed around his ankles, something that someone else must have done while he slept, and the shirt isn’t too big or too small.  Just right. 

 

It’s terrifying.  He’s not used to this type of stuff, he’s used to being uncomfortable or numb or naked and having fun.  But Klaus doesn’t really mind it.  He just wants to know what happened after Diego and the detective woman found him in the motel.

 

Klaus rubs his eyes with weak hands.  A few of his fingers ache and throb and suddenly he can’t really breathe correctly.  They tore them off- they fucking tore his nails off, and they poured water over his face until he couldn’t breathe.  Speaking of which, Klaus sits up as best as he can, clawing at the sheets covering him, and coughs so hard his throat feels like it’s on fire. 

 

“Klaus!  Klaus!”  Diego calls his name.  Klaus hangs on to his voice while he continues coughing and choking.  There isn’t even much liquid in his lungs, it’s mostly just panic and leftover fear he couldn’t really deal with in the moment.  With his eyes closed and tears leaking out from the effort, Klaus reaches out wildly in hope of snagging something he can hold onto.  He’s successful in grabbing someone’s arm and curling his hand around a bicep.  It helps him stay sitting up, which makes it easier to breathe and clear his head at least a little bit.

 

His eyes and cheeks burn with fever while the rest of his body is freezing cold.  Clearing up his mind is not so easy with a heated brain.  Klaus realizes this is still the most lucid he’s been in a while, what with going through withdrawal in that shithole of a motel.

 

Finally, he takes one big breath and feels a bit better, at least enough to open his eyes.  “God, fuck.”  It comes out as more of a whimper than he intended but it’s accurate to how he’s feeling currently.  Coughing took a lot of energy and being awake really isn’t ideal right now.  He can’t stop remembering what Hazel and Cha-Cha did to him, what they said.  Picturing it. 

 

 _If you don’t tell us what we need to know I’m gonna fucking chop your arm to bits and stick your own finger in your eye.  You think I’m bluffing?_   Then, screaming, so much screaming, and his perfectly painted nail was gone.  _Oh god please-please-please stop, STOP—_

“Stop, stop, stop, please, _fuck_ , stop.”  Ironically, Klaus can’t make himself stop.  He’s so goddamn scared.

 

And then someone’s arms are wrapping around him. At first, he fights, terrified that it’s Hazel trying to choke him again, but it smells like home.  The arms aren’t going around his throat, they’re curling around him carefully and gently like he’s made of porcelain but they squeeze just enough to ground him.  Suddenly, he’s back in the mansion, with Diego pressing him closer.

 

“You’re here, you’re right here, Klaus, I’m here and Vanya’s here.  Don’t go back there, alright?”  Diego’s voice cuts through the last of the fog in his brain.  “You with me?”

 

Klaus shakes silently a few seconds longer.  Finding his voice, he murmurs, “Guess so.”  He presses his forehead into Diego’s shoulder and ignores how odd this should be.  He hasn’t seen his siblings in, what, twelve years, and their reunion wasn’t quite amicable.  At least he didn’t physically fight with anyone, like Luther and Diego did, but none of them are on good terms except maybe Luther and Allison.  Five has been gone for longer than twelve years but he’s an even bigger asshole than before so everyone’s already pissed at him.  Klaus, on the other hand, hasn’t been actively trying to annoy anyone but he supposes they still can’t deal with his nasty little habits.  Maybe they’ll be happy to hear that it’s been beaten out of him.  “Y’know I’m not a violent person, right?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Please tell me they’re dead.”

 

Diego hugs him a bit tighter.  A daintier hand tentatively slides into his shoulder.  Klaus sniffles quietly.  “One of them has a knife in her throat.  The other one is in custody.”  It’s not as good as being dead.  Klaus shivers at the memory of hearing them casually chat and gripe during and in between the torture.  The big one would complain about his wrist in the same breath he threatened to thumb out Klaus’s eyeballs if he didn’t stop talking.  “He’s in the only station I trust.  Detective Patch, the one who told me where you were, I trust her.  But I’ll kill him if you want.”

 

At that, he can’t help but burst into laughter.  “Jesus, Diego, don’t be so casual about it.”  Klaus pulls back enough to look around.  Diego looks conflicted – worried and completely serious about killing a man for his brother but also hesitantly hopeful.  He looks over and sees Vanya on his other side.

 

“Glad to see you’re awake,” she says in that soft voice she has. 

 

“I’m not,” he tries to joke.  He regrets it when Vanya and Diego both flinch.  Klaus racks his brain for a safer topic.  “Uh…how’s the violin going?”

 

Ben scoffs.  “Smooth.”  Klaus shoots him a glare.

 

Vanya looks surprised in a way that Klaus really doesn’t like.  “Good.  But how are you feeling?”  She tilts her head a bit to the side.  The obvious concern is bizarre to Klaus after years of next to no contact with his siblings.  Now there’s two of them on either side of his bed and he’s wearing normal people clothes. 

 

“In the mood for some drugs, that’s for sure.”  Klaus blinks slowly.  It’s true that he’s craving but he’s actually pretty tired.  “Or a nap.  But a glass of whatever Papa has behind the bar wouldn’t hurt.”  Klaus slides off of the bed, gently detangling himself from Diego and instantly regretting it.  His legs buckle and he nearly crumples to the floor completely unceremoniously.  It’s embarrassing but he pushes through for the sake of a little vodka.  Maybe rum or whatever the hell the old geezer liked to sip on while torturing his seven children.

 

Outside of the room, he’s met with an odd scene.  All seven, including Ben of course, of the Hargreeves kiddies have gathered for some reason and they aren’t locked in a fist fight.  Five definitely looks like he’s ready for one, but it’s still weird.  Klaus gives a tired little wave for politeness.  No one returns it, not even Allison, which Klaus thinks is pretty rude.  It’s getting hard to walk or think clearly.  Perhaps it isn’t as rude as he thinks.

 

“Klaus, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  Vanya follows behind closely while Diego trails behind.  “You should be resting, not drinking.”

 

“Those assholes crushed up the last of my pills and I am not in the mood to fall asleep completely sober.”  Klaus rifles around in the bar, not really reading any of the labels, and pulls a bottle out.  And then he realizes something.

 

Everyone is in the mansion.  Luther, Allison, Diego, Five, and Vanya are all here.  Ben is in the corner, as usual, but it feels odd to have everyone back after their twisted little family fell apart.  Everyone is here…but only Diego found him.  And he only found Klaus because of his detective friend stumbling upon some evidence.  So they’ll gather for whatever bullshit is happening but no one will actively look for him.  Diego, he’s grateful for him of course, and Vanya was definitely not clued into anything, so he can’t quite blame them.  But what the hell was everyone else busy with that they didn’t even _notice_ he was gone?

 

* * *

 

Diego creeps a bit closer to Klaus when he sees him freeze and tense up.  He might be having another flashback, in which case Diego might have to catch him.

 

“So,” Klaus says suddenly, and quite loudly, “I have a question.”  He sets the bottle back on the shelf.

 

“So do I.”  Five stands from where he was sulking in the corner of the couch.  He has a cup of coffee in one hand and he tucks the other into his pocket, looking more like a kid trying to be an adult than anything else.  “What the hell was so important—”

 

“What I want to know,” Klaus interrupts smoothly, his voice low and dangerous though he sways on his feet, “Is why only Diego looked for me.”  His piercing green eyes rake over his siblings.  “And even he was preoccupied with Five for most of the day.  But at least he fucking tried – after a whole _day_ of being tortured.  Better late than never am I right?”  Klaus breaks off, pacing away from them, back turned to them and shoulders tight.  He gives a short, humorless laugh.  “Years and years of dealing with getting fucked over by our shitty, evil father together means nothing to any of you I guess.”

 

Allison holds her palms out, pleading, and says, “That’s not true—”

 

“Twenty-four hours of nonstop torture, of listening to the chattering of ghosts in between waterboarding sessions, getting my fucking nails ripped off one by one—”

 

“Klaus.”  Diego knows that he’s getting too worked up for his own good.  But he’s too far into his rage to listen. 

 

His voice is rising in volume and hysteria with each scalding, venomous word.  “—Oh, don’t worry, they were very professional about it!  Even when the big guy’s knuckles split open from punching me so fucking hard I couldn’t breathe, they kept going!”

 

Vanya’s face is white as paper.  “Klaus, please, stop!”

 

Ignoring her, Klaus wheels around and stares them down.  “And believe me, getting tortured isn’t anything easier when, first of all, you’re going through forced withdrawal.  It’s a fucking treat.  And it- it was really fun getting beat to shit all while knowing that, of all the people in this damned mansion, I’m the only one no one would notice is gone.”  Klaus seems to be running out of steam.  But what might be worse than his cutting speech are the tears gathering in his eyes.  “Two psychos come in and trash the house and then leave.  And none of you stopped to wonder where I was?”  His voice cracks, making Diego's stomach clench, and he's sure from the resulting silence that it has the same effect on the rest of them. 

 

Luther seems to think the situation has gotten bad enough to step in.  “Klaus, please.  I- _we_ thought you were…”

 

Klaus seems to know what he’s thinking already and it only makes him angrier.  “Off getting high?  Hm?  Or getting fucked in an alleyway for money?”  Appalled, Luther takes a stumbling step backward.  Even Diego hadn’t expected such a blunt response.  “Don’t look at me like that.  I know what you think of me, you assholes.”

 

Five seems to be trying to get pissed.  Truly, he looks more shocked and uncomfortable than pissed.  “This is bigger than all of us, Klaus.  The world is going to end. Luther and Diego were just trying to find me to avoid that—”

 

“That doesn’t change the fact,” Klaus’s voice gets louder yet again, “that none of you _fucking looked for me!_ ”  His shout echoes through the mansion.  The tears have overflowed and now stream down Klaus’s cheeks, making his green eyes shine brighter with devastated betrayal.  As soon as he finishes, Klaus’s eyes roll back into his skull and he drops to the floor like a bag of stones.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Diego shoots forward and kneels beside Klaus.  He’s out cold, cheeks flushed yet again, breathing too fast to be normal.  “How do we keep fucking up?  He’s back and safe with us and we still fuck it up.”  Despondently, he slides his arms under Klaus and picks him up for the umpteenth time.  When he turns back toward the stairs to bring Klaus back to his bedroom, he sees the aftermath of his brother’s honesty.

 

Five sits, stunned and speechless for the first time.  He’s always had a snarky, biting comment in store for anyone and anything.  Now his coffee dangles from his hand and he has nothing to say.  Allison’s shoulders shake as she curls into herself and cries, for once not seeking comfort in Luther.  Luther has taken a few steps back, head down in defeat.  Vanya presses her hand to her mouth and stares off into the corner.

 

Diego makes a split-second decision and begins to ascend the stairs.  Klaus will be more comfortable in his own room than in the med room.  He looks down at Klaus and starts to wonder about the depth of their mistakes. 


	4. A Grave Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hargreeves start to settle into their situation. A talk begins but is unfortunately interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pun Intended.

Klaus’s room is like the physical embodiment of his personality. Whatever he liked, whether it be a cute stuffed animal, fairy lights, or a cool poster, he displayed with something akin to pride. Klaus never really cared what anyone thought from the beginning, so calling it pride isn’t exactly right. Something more along the lines of contentedness or freedom; Klaus wore his skirts and jewelry or whatever else he snatched from Allison and Mom's closet for absolutely no one other than himself. So his room is kind of like a nest with all of his interests on display, not for other people to see them, but for Klaus to see them and be happy. Even Reginald’s disdainful attitude toward the unruly nature of his fourth child didn’t dim his enthusiasm.

 

At the moment, Klaus doesn’t quite fit in his own room. First of all, the clothes that Pogo got are so ordinary they look out of place on Klaus. They’re not flashy, covered in sparkles, or show any skin. It’s just a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Asleep in Diego’s arms, he looks even more unassuming.

 

Diego deposits his brother onto the bed which Pogo had made after dropping off the pajamas.  He'd tidied up, too, laid the sheets out on the bed. He pulls a blanket out of the closet and smiles at the rush of memories that comes with it. Once he tucks it around Klaus, Diego can no longer ignore the current pressing issue.

 

Klaus had started to roam the streets as often as possible when he was around fourteen. After that, the frequency and magnitude of his disobedience increased. They could all see the signs – he came home late and a complete mess, though at the beginning he would put some effort into hding it. As the months passed and Klaus turned fifteen, his behavior worsened, but it was right alongside the rest of them rebelling against Reginald. As opposed to the other four, Klaus cared less about pissing off Reginald and more about being high or drunk, something that made him stand out among his siblings but not to their adoptive father. The four of them are guilty of antagonizing Klaus for his growing addiction – none more than Luther, Diego thinks bitterly – and eventually, they all got sick of trying to make him quit and instead started to ignore his new habits.  Now that Diego is an adult and he's had experience with self-destructive tendencies, both in himself and other, he knows that they'd chosen the worst routes.  Antagonizing Klaus only drove him deeper into the drugs and ignoring it was just as bad.  They should have acknowledged it, explored it in a safe environment, and encouraged Klaus to talk to them about it.

 

The point is that there’s a possibility there are drugs stashed somewhere in here. Though Pogo had checked some of the more obvious places, there’s always a chance that young, resourceful, and desperate Klaus hid it in places not so easy to check. In a wall, in a stuffed animal, maybe even in other places in the mansion. There’s less of a risk of Klaus finding an abandoned stash somewhere outside of his room given his weakened state.  He’d rather not take any chances with the room, though.  Diego goes around the room, tapping on the sharpie-covered walls and then squishes the stuffed animals, trying not to feel like a creep.  When he gets to a tiny unicorn, he sighs heavily.  It's the only one with any odd mass inside.  Diego steps out of the room and rips the head off.  There's a bag of pills inside that he stuffs in his pocket.  He goes back inside and looks for somewhere to hide the dead unicorn.

 

He’s interrupted by a heavily slurring Klaus murmuring his name. Looking down, he sees that his brother is awake, his eyes barely open, just two slivers of fever-bright green. “Ligh’s…” Diego leans in a bit closer, trying and failing to decipher the muttered word. “Please.”

 

Sitting on the bed, Diego brushes the stray strands from Klaus’s brow. “I’m right here. You just rest, okay?”

 

(Beside him on the bed sits Ben. Diego, obviously, has no chance of knowing that his other brother is present, much less any chance of hearing him pleading to keep the lights on.)

 

Klaus’s eyes flutter closed. Diego calls Pogo in. “I’m going to go down to the living room for a while. There are some things I need to discuss with the others. Do me a favor and keep an eye on Klaus?”

 

“Of course.” Pogo’s eyes tell him he’s thinking the same thing. Shame floods Diego. He feels like he’s running around behind Klaus’s back even though this is for his own good. It could be the hypocrisy that comes with caring so much this late. His brother’s been struggling for most of his life now but none of them have taken the time to help until now.

 

With one last sweep of his eyes around the room, Diego makes his way down to the living room. His train of thought is filling him with guilt so intense he feels sick.  But it's vital that he feels this. These are things that they all have to face. He owes it to Klaus to think through their failures as siblings and family. Otherwise, there’s no way they’ll truly be able to be held accountable. Though Klaus’s behavior had been easy to chastise because he was the only one to exhibit it, and because of the societal stigma around it, their behavior had been abhorrent. There's no excuse.

 

With that in mind, he braces himself for the coming talk. Diego passes through the threshold into the living room where his siblings are sitting. Nobody makes a sound when he goes to sit at the far chair. Sitting across from him is Allison. She looks weary but her face is clear of tears. Five and Luther sits on opposite sides of the couch with Vanya smack in the middle.

 

He has no idea how to start.

 

“What the hell was that about, Diego?” Luther asks ever so politely.

 

He’s too tired to snap at him. Instead, Diego breathes in slowly and sighs. “We fucked up. All of us. Hazel and Cha-Cha, they grabbed Klaus. They’ve had him since breaking in.”

 

“Oh, God,” Allison breathes. “How- how…”

 

“How did no one notice? I don’t understand it either. To be honest, I-I... _fuck_ , I forgot. I forgot he was in the mansion when they came and I forgot about him when Five disappeared again.” Diego presses a hand to his eyes. He’s been awake for too long; a headache brews in his skull like a storm. It certainly doesn’t help to feel all of these nauseating emotions.  Frustration, guilt, the distinct knowledge that he is part of what brought Klaus to the state he's in. “They tortured him for information he didn’t have.”

 

Luther shakes his head as he looks down at the floor and says, “We were looking for Five. How could we have known?” Five clenches his jaw but says nothing.

 

“That’s bullshit,” Vanya pipes up. “And you know it, Luther. Someone should’ve noticed, _everyone_ should’ve noticed!” She starts to wring her hands, something that Diego doesn’t quite understand. She hadn’t had any information, to begin with, so she shouldn’t feel guilty.

 

Allison seems to agree with him. “Out of all of us, you’re the least responsible. You couldn’t have known.” Restless, she stands and absentmindedly makes her way to the bar. She doesn’t reach for a drink.

 

It’s time to broach the topic. Dread trickles down his spine and makes his skin crawl. He knows things are only going to get worse once he brings it up, but he refuses to let Klaus down any more than they already have. This is the least he can do. “It wasn’t just tonight.” Diego looks around at his siblings and feels a pang of loss. Ben’s absence is especially obvious in times like these. None of them are perfect but at least Ben would have had some idea as to how to deal with this, maybe even completely avoid this if he hadn't died so young. Out of all of them, he was probably the most well-adjusted as his own person, probably because of his complete rejection of his power. One could say that he acted the most like a normal person aside from Vanya. “We fucked up a while ago. Somehow, somewhere along the line, it became acceptable to forget Klaus right alongside Vanya.”

 

* * *

 

 

Awareness comes as awareness does – in a way that can’t quite be described. It comes from out of nowhere but not suddenly; it can’t really be sudden when just a few seconds ago he was somewhere else, somewhere nicer. Asleep, that’s what is it, he was asleep. He might still be asleep. It’s really a 50-50 thing as to if he’s conscious or not. Klaus sees his ceiling with a blurred vignette encroaching upon his vision like a smoldering photograph. Around the edges, it’s fuzzy, and it’s hard to keep his eyes open. He tries to roll onto his side into a more comfortable position but the command simply doesn’t reach the rest of his body. He can’t even turn his head. This doesn’t really bother him.

 

Someone calls his name. It’s Ben, probably, but it might not be him…except it almost definitely is. It’s hard to think so his train of thought derails and floats away. The feeling encompassing Klaus could easily be called a high but the two sensations are distinct and not at all alike. The vague confusion is similar but a different flavor. It isn’t accompanied by a headache like cotton stuffed in his skull; the pain is sharper and more likely attributed to a fever. Ben(?) calls his name again. Klaus thinks about answering but again his body does nothing to carry out the action.

 

He closes his eyes because the ceiling is nothing much to look at. Klaus is met with the vivid and sharply-detailed image of the motel. Pain slices through his head, unbearable for a split second, and then ebbs into duller throbs. His brain feels like it’s being used as a drum, _bang bang bang_ , there go his eyeballs rolling out of his head. He feels too hot now but there’s no chance he’ll break free of whatever’s holding him to kick the sheets off. He might have melted right into the bed.

 

Then, suddenly, the bed falls away and he’s sitting in the chair again with rope around his wrists. It cuts into his skin from all of the struggling and manhandling. Klaus gasps for breath, his lungs feeling like they’re full of cement, tears flooding his eyes and smudging the makeup around them. He heaves and he heaves as much as his chest can handle and tries not to listen to Hazel and Cha-Cha complaining about their docked pay. He hates them. He fucking loathes them but the fear pulsing through every single nerve in his body with each heartbeat overpowers whatever anger he may hold.

 

The cement overflows, filling his throat and slowly thins into water darker than blood. It’s boiling to the touch but deadly still and silent, as it flows from his mouth into the room. In the blink of an eye, it rises above Klaus’s head.

 

 

 

He must have fallen asleep again because the next time he’s awake he feels freezing cold. His body aches all over, but the worst of it is held in his chest, his face, and his hand. It makes sense because Hazel and Cha-Cha centered their efforts to extract information. What unfriendly, rude, sadistic people. 

 

Klaus’s hand twitches. He wants to pull the sheets up to his chin and get warm but all he can do is shiver and feel the odd tear drip down the side of his face.

 

It’s a familiar combination. The bone-deep chill and paralysis – though the reasons are different now, the sensations remind him to a terrifying extent of the mausoleum. When he was a kid and Reginald locked him in there, the two things he would remember the most in his dreams and flashbacks aside from the shrieks of the dead were the freezing cold and the complete loss of control over his limbs. All he could do was seize up in the corner his hands presses as hard as possible to his head and his legs folded. Even when his limbs were full of static from staying as still as the stone around him, Klaus couldn’t bear to move. The ghosts would swarm him, leering and screeching from the pitch black.  He would do his best not to touch them. Despite the darkness, Klaus could see them almost perfectly through his tears. Their gaunt faces were etched into his mind to the point where he couldn’t close his eyes without picturing them in perfect detail. As this was before Reginald fucked him up enough to self-medicate, Klaus didn’t have the comfort of numbness, and so he couldn’t help but scream and scream. Even though it only earned him more hours in the mausoleum, Klaus couldn’t help it. He was young and scared out of his mind. No thirteen-year-old could have had a single rational thought when trapped in a cemetery and surrounded by the horrifying yells of angry and bitter spirits.

 

“Klaus, _breathe_ , please, Klaus—”

 

It’s no different now; he can feel them staring holes into him, calling his name, and he still can’t hold back his screams. They bubble up from his burning chest and fill every nook and cranny of his skull, exploding out from his mouth and into the room. His voice cracks in the middle of it, but he couldn’t stop if he tried. Klaus’s limbs are no longer complete dead weight so he thrashes on the bed, arms flailing wildly to try and push away the phantom faces making his blood pressure skyrocket. Klaus sucks in a crackling breath and continues screaming. He covers his face but their own screeching is louder than anything he could produce. They echo in his mind in a parody of his own thoughts, infecting him with mind-bending, world-ending terror. And there is no end in sight.

 

* * *

 

 

The conversation had stopped after Diego’s admission of their failures. He wracks his brain thinking of a way to continue but is saved the effort by Five speaking up.

 

“Alright. Before I say anything, I want to establish two things. The first being that, yes, we fucked up bad. That’s the whole reason why the goddamn apocalypse happened. And I won’t try to deny that we should try and fix it. The second thing is that I need to know what happened, right now, before we can discuss anything.  But I do want to talk about it. The fate of the world depends on it.” Five speaks with careful and calculated words, having clearly thought them over for a while. It seems logical though the thought of postponing this talk threatens to make Diego furious.

 

Diego thinks that clarifying a couple of simple facts won’t take too long. He can deal with that as long as no one draws it out too much. Nodding, he looks at Five, trying to communicate his willingness for diplomacy. “You want to know about Hazel and Cha-Cha, right? Well, I killed one of them. The woman. I put a knife in her throat, so she won’t be walking that off. The other one is in custody probably on the way to prison with no chance of striking a deal.”

 

Five’s expression turns to one of relief, a very odd look for him. It’s nice though. The entire time he’s been back, Five’s only looked pissed off and stressed out of his mind. And a little crazy. Now, a bit of tension melts from his shoulders, but not completely. “You killed Cha-Cha, then. Good. She’s more dedicated to her job than Hazel. He’s kind of a softie compared to her. All I need to do is find Harold Jenkins, then.”

 

“Not right now,” Diego warns. “We have some time before the world ends right?”

 

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Five sets his coffee down and leans back into the couch. “So we messed each other up but really did a number on Vanya and Klaus. Now what?”

 

_'Now_ _what'_ indeed. As Diego opens his mouth to tell him that they should apologize first, and especially to Klaus for not fucking looking for him while he was being tortured, a blood-curdling scream sounds through the house.

 

His instincts are sharp enough to have him on his feet instantly. The rest of them stand after he does, frozen as another scream comes from upstairs. The only person that could be is Klaus. Each scream only seems to stop because he runs out of air. Diego bolts through the living room and sprints up the stairs, moving faster than he ever has. He takes the stairs three at a time but doesn’t sacrifice any speed for it out of sheer, overwhelming fear. The anguish in his brother’s screams can’t be faked.

 

Diego slides into Klaus’s room. Klaus struggles against the knotted mess of his sheets, screaming with his eyes tightly shut, tears streaming down his face like twin waterfalls. Despair fills his figure in every clumsy kick and every strained line on his face. Diego shoots forward and does the first thing that comes to mind. He grabs Klaus up in a tight hug and is relieved that he doesn’t fight against him. Instead, after a split second, he latches on to Diego as if his shirt is a lifeline and begins to sob. His fingers curl around the bunches of fabric that he’s grabbed, the material creaking under the force of his grip. Klaus’s sobs are heart-wrenchingly painful. He cries without restraint, tears and snot and unintelligible pleads soaking into Diego’s shirt. With each wet gasp and trembling exhale, an agonized noise rises from Klaus’s chest and fills the otherwise silent room.

 

Diego presses Klaus closer to himself and ducks his head, fighting against his own urge to cry. He knows that Hazel and Cha-Cha tortured him, and that should be enough to cause this reaction, but this seems like more than just last night. Pain radiates from Klaus, enough to reach Diego, as well as the rest of his siblings. They’re scattered around the small room at a complete loss for what to do or how to help. The only thing that Diego can do is rub small circles into Klaus’s back and rock him gently.

 

For about another fifteen grueling minutes, it’s all he can do. Klaus is inconsolable. No amount of reassurances could cut through whatever has hurt him to the point of such a breakdown. By the end of it, Klaus only has the energy to hiccup. He begins to melt against Diego but doesn’t let go of his shirt. Diego’s back is beginning to twinge so he makes to adjust his position but it spooks Klaus so much that it’s another five minutes of crying with renewed vigor. Having had enough of this, Diego decides that it would be easier to just lift him up and scoot farther up the bed. The sheets are hopelessly messy but he doesn’t mind. Klaus clings to him and doesn’t move his face from where it’s buried in Diego’s shoulder.

 

Leaning against the wall and his legs parted so that Klaus sits between them, Diego leans his head back to rest on the wall. He’s exhausted after not sleeping the entire night they were patching Klaus up. Now it’s past noon and he really needs at least a nap. But he’d rather cut off his right hand than leave now, not when Klaus needs him. He needs all of them and there’s no force on Earth that could take them away from him.

 

Vanya drifts closer and sits on the bed. Allison sits beside her, taking up the last of the space, what with the bed having been for a child.  Five and Luther sit on the floor beside it. At the doorway stands Pogo, quiet and reserved. He makes no move to enter the room. This is something the Hargreeves need to take care of.  After another moment, he nods at Diego and walks off to give them privacy.

 

Even after crying so hard and for so long, Klaus hasn’t passed out again. He’s a ball of tension sitting perpendicular to Diego, elbows tucked as close to his body as he can without loosening his grip on Diego’s shirt. With no idea as to how to comfort his brother, Diego does the first thing that comes to mind.

 

He starts talking. “I…I don’t know how you pull off the outfits that you wear. I could never wear Allison’s skirt and pull it off, much less walk around in public. But you, Klaus, always wore whatever you did and were fashionable. And when you started mixing in makeup it seemed so natural.” As he speaks, Klaus starts to calm down bit by bit. “I was always impressed. Even with our bitch of a dad you were fashionable. I mean, I know he hated it when you did stuff like that but his opinion means jack shit, y’know. I remember when we were kids the first time you borrowed something from Mom’s closet.”

 

This seems to be a bad topic and Diego has no idea why. Klaus tenses up again and curls up tighter. “No, no, no,” he mutters, “No, please, Dad- Dad let me out, let me out, let me out, please, please! Let me out, let me out, let me _out_.” He stays quiet, though his words grow frantic, muffled against Diego’s shoulder.

 

Vanya pales. She reaches out to lace her fingers with Klaus’s but before she can, something drops off the edge of the bedside table. Klaus’s cracked phone clatters to the floor and pulls his headphones with it. The noise doesn’t seem to get through to Klaus. Diego feels like something significant just happened. He stares over the edge of the bed but he can’t quite see the phone anymore, just the cable.  He wonders vaguely how it could've fallen off if it was nowhere near the edge. Allison reaches down and grabs it. The confusion on her faces tells Diego she's just as confused as he is. Vanya holds her hand out and, at a loss, Allison hands it over.

 

Carefully, Vanya places the headphones over Klaus’s ears, the task not too hard when he leans away from Diego’s shoulder to help her ease them on. He isn’t totally aware of what’s happened but the headphones must be a familiar comfort item because he automatically releases his right hand and presses it to the headphone. Vanya unlocks the phone, thankful that Klaus never bothered with a password, and opens the music app. There’s only one playlist. She presses shuffle and hands the phone to Klaus when he reaches out blindly for it.

 

He turns up the volume until the music is loud enough to hear clearly in the silent room. His shoulders stop shaking as intensely as they had been and he practically melts into Diego’s arms. Hazy with exhaustion, Diego closes his eyes and lets the lyrics wash over him.

 

_What you gonna do?_

_Times caught up with you_

_Now you wait your turn_

_You know there’s no return_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Hand of Doom by Black Sabbath. I had a really hard time picking a good song that Klaus might have in his playlist that also fit the mood. I'd recommend listening to it! It's my fav from the album.  
> Please continue to show your support, it really motivates me to write <3 Even though I haven't responded to all of them, I read all of them and they fill me with happiness!!!  
> Here's my tumblr: whumpisawonderfulthing.tumblr.com


	5. Waffles Don't Make Childhood Trauma Easier to Relive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though the apocalypse is on the horizon, there's a lot of downtime in the Hargreeves mansion. Phone calls are made, breakfast is eaten, and some big conversations are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for taking so long guys! The days just kept coming (Smash Mouth was right), some shitty stuff went down like a month ago, and then writer's block hit hard. I finally got down to finishing this chapter yesterday. I actually had to cut some plot points from this chapter to be written for the next one. I promise I'm still really invested in this story I just...I purchased Spider-Man for the PS4 and got distracted. Anyway, enjoy.  
> (There are some serious discussions in this chapter)

The next morning, Diego wakes up feeling more rested than he has in a while. He takes stock of his surroundings. Pressed to his side is Klaus, who’s thankfully still asleep and seemingly not in the throes of another nightmare. Vanya is curled up in the armchair in the corner. Diego has noticed a pattern among his siblings in that they all look much more innocent in their sleep. Vanya's cold, hard eyes are closed, giving the impression that the sun cut through the dark grey clouds that usually surround her. Klaus’s face is smooth and most of the makeup around his eyes has been washed away. He looks peaceful. Sweet, even. It's disconcerting to Diego to know that this isn’t their true state. As soon as they wake up, reality will set back in, harsh and blatant in all its sharp edges.

 

Diego shifts a bit. Klaus moves his arm in his sleep and settles back in. They can afford to stay in bed. In truth, it would be better to wake his siblings up and move them to a different location. Hazel and Cha-Cha know where to find them should they come looking into the mansion. But he knows it's important to prioritize certain things over his own hypervigilance.

 

His next task is to apologize to Klaus and hope he can forgive Diego. Actually - that should be _everyone's_ next task. But Klaus can’t exactly do that if he's unconscious. For now, he'll have to wait until his brother is awake to start rounding up the rest of his siblings.

 

If Klaus doesn't forgive them…well, Diego can’t think like that. The very thought of continuing the distance between his siblings is excruciating. Though he’s angry with Vanya for publishing that book and pissed at Luther for having so much trust in Reginald, they’re still his siblings. Adopted or not, they weathered their horrible teenage years together. Now that the apocalypse is coming, they’ll have an excuse to talk to each other.

 

It’d been hard to realize until he saw Mom. Until Hazel and Cha-Cha nearly took them away from him, Diego didn't even want to entertain the idea. He still loves his siblings even if they’re all thoroughly fucked up. It's just, it's hard to have such a crackhead family. It's even harder to ignore how pissed it makes him to think about his dumbass brothers and sisters nearly getting killed.

 

He's reminded of Eudora’s porch. He remembers how impassioned he’d felt thinking about his family getting attacked in their own home. What he said, _they came into_ my _home and tried to kill_ my _family_ , it made him feel murderous.

 

Thinking of Eudora reminds him that he promised her he'd call and update her on Klaus. When he goes to scoot off of the bed, Klaus lets out a quiet noise, stirring slightly. He sinks back down immediately. Klaus needs to sleep – he also needs food and water and an apology, but above all he needs rest – so Diego settles back. He hopes Eudora will be able to hear him whispering.

 

He slips his phone out of his pocket and clicks her contact with one hand. The other one is trapped, his arm is being used as a pillow at the moment, and he doesn’t plan on ripping himself away from Klaus anytime soon. He listens as the phone rings. Eudora answers on the third tone.

 

“ _Hey.”_

 

“I just remembered you wanted updates.” He’s whispering as quietly as he can while still talking loud enough for her to hear him, if not with a bit of difficulty.

 

“G _o ahead, I'm just doing some paperwork. How is Klaus? And you?_ ” She pauses. “ _Why are you whispering?_ ” Suspicion creeps into her voice.

 

He misses her. Not in a romantic, pining way, because that ship sailed a while ago and crashed and sunk. They’d managed not to burn any bridges in the process other than any possibility to retry anything more than friendship. But her companionship still means something to him. “Klaus is asleep and he won’t let go.”

 

She chuckles, sounding fond. “ _I’d take a picture if I were there._ ”

 

Crap. “Allison probably took a picture. Not that I'll ever send it to you.” Diego lets the corner of his mouth curl into a smile. He’s desperate for any lightheartedness amidst the terrible reality that they’re in. “He’s…not really okay. I mean, he’s not in any danger, physically, but.”

 

Eudora sighs, sympathy bleeding through the receiver. He feels a bit better talking about it to her. The only other people that know about the situation are his siblings and they’re all emotionally stunted and feeling guilty, too. She offers a different perspective, a more forgiving one. “ _You guys haven’t had the easiest life. And Klaus just went through something that could really break a man. But you’ll be there for him.”_

 

“Of course.”

 

“ _See? You’re getting there. No one taught you how to be a brother. Just don’t fuck it up._ ”

 

“Easy peasy,” he mutters. “Thanks, Patch.”

 

“ _It’s no problem_ ,” she says, “ _I was…worried. Not about you, of course._ ” She makes no effort to mask the obvious lie.

 

Diego smiles wider. “Right. I’ll call you later.”

 

“ _Do that. Bye._ ”

 

“Bye.” Diego hangs up and tucks his phone back in his pocket. Klaus seems to have shifted to lighter sleep. He takes a deeper breath than usual and starts to rub his eyes. Not feeling very compelled to move, Diego wonders what Klaus will think when he sees he's been cuddling Diego like a damn teddy bear. Klaus peels his eyes open and looks around blearily like a sleepy teenager. “Morning.”

 

Klaus is unfazed. Not surprising. “Waffles,” he murmurs, “I want waffles. And weed.”

 

Diego holds back a wince. “Waffles, sure, but no can do on the drugs.” Klaus shoots him a look. He doesn’t want to pretend anymore. “Ah...listen. I, uh, I know I should’ve been there. We all should have. I-I’m sorry, about everything, all of it. Not being there for you when we were kids and letting you l-l-leave.” Diego can’t help but sit up, feeling shame burn on his face, both because of his honesty and the stutter he can’t seem to completely kick. “I want to be better. If you’ll let me.”

 

Still drowsy, Klaus blinks up at him. Diego tries his best to communicate what he can’t say aloud through his eyes. He can only hope Klaus can see he means it. Klaus yawns widely and says, “I appreciate it. Sounds like a lot of effort, I guess. But first, breakfast.” Then, Klaus stretches luxuriously and in the process smacks him in the side. Diego flicks him on the arm where he knows there’s the least bruising. Klaus lets out a laugh that wakes Vanya. While she struggles to wake up, Klaus sits up with some difficulty and slides off the bed. Watching him land on his feet is like watching a fledgling touch down after their first flight.

 

Vanya stretches, relaxed but with smaller movements than Klaus, and stands. “Hey.” She speaks softly, rumpled with sleep and just as quiet as she was when she was younger.

 

“We’re making waffles and eggs and bacon,” Klaus tells her. “You’re on eggs duty because I trust you with that and Ben and I are making waffles.” He turns toward Diego, scratching his bandaged hand says, “If you burn the bacon I’ll never forgive you.”

 

Scrambling for a witty retort, Diego simply salutes. Klaus giggles; he feels as if it's a sort of praise. It’s definitely more subdued than when he was high as a kite, which is painful to think about, and Klaus wavers on his feet. He and Vanya both take their place on either side of Klaus.

 

The air is stifled. They haven’t touched each other since they were young enough to want to play together, since before Reginald went and pitted them against one another. Ben and Klaus were always going off together and so their bond remained pretty strong up until he died. Now, no one’s really aware as to how death had affected Ben’s personality, and ghosts can’t touch the living. It’s safe to say that his and Vanya’s willingness to step in and provide support for Klaus – not just in terms of walking – is an all-around weird experience for the three of them. Klaus says nothing for another beat. If he pushes them away, they’ll let him, but Diego holds his breath and hopes for something better.

 

Klaus sinks onto their shoulders. Vanya is shorter than him by far but she helps nonetheless, arm solid against his back. “Let’s get a move on, I’m hungry," he whines. Somehow even when he’s being supported by his siblings, Klaus is able to saunter out of his room and toward the stairs. “Hold on. Bathroom detour, please and thanks.”

 

Fifteen minutes later they’re dropping Klaus off on a chair at the kitchen table. He’s pale and a bit sweaty but doesn’t look on the verge of another breakdown or collapse. At least, according to Diego’s limited knowledge of his brother, balanced against his ability to read people, he doesn’t look too bad. He’s pretty good at reading body language, comparing the shifts in his stance and all that, but Klaus is something of an enigma. He shouldn’t be, given that he doesn’t really care about hiding his emotions. But Klaus has never been totally transparent. He's a good liar seeing as one has to be when carrying on a drug habit under the watchful eye and oppressive thumb of a man like Reginald. He can go from an impressive poker face one moment to completely and utterly open in the same damn conversation. Right now, Diego thinks that he’s holding back something – chances are it’s the itchy craving for drugs – not for the sake of his and Vanya’s emotions but for the sake of the casual atmosphere.

 

He knows Klaus is justified in hiding how he feels. On the other hand, Diego doesn’t know that he wouldn’t ruin the precarious balance they have right now should Klaus admit he wants to get high. He doesn’t want to be overly apathetic but he also knows that letting Klaus get high would probably be bad. Maybe not, maybe Diego is completely wrong, but he can’t really work it out in his mind. Klaus is unpredictable at the best of times but right now when it matters the most, Diego won’t take any chances. Going cold turkey isn’t the optimal way to get his brother clean but it might just be the most sensible. He’s going to be very uncomfortable in the coming days given the _torture_ and all, so anything from weed to heroine might be beckoning his brother at this very moment. Marijuana isn’t the worst thing, in fact, it’s probably the one thing Diego doesn’t mind Klaus using, but it’s not the consumption that’ll get him. It’s the addiction and the reliance on it.

 

The next most pressing issue is making sure the bacon doesn’t burn. And damn does Diego have his priorities in a list. Not a cohesive one, sure, but he’s very well sure that making breakfast is easier than actively deciding on how he’ll help his brother get clean.

 

It’s odd to look in the fridge and see it perfectly maintained and with full storage of vegetables, fruits, meats, cheeses, water, milk, and everything else necessary for day-to-day food. Condiments and all that, they’re in their places, as if none of them had ever left. The fridge stands where it did before and the model hasn’t been swapped - neither have the brands - as if nothing ever changed. Now it’s 2019 and Diego has known the taste of blood and failure, love and tears; he’s felt the pain of loss and the world-bending feeling that he is, in fact, very small in the complete scheme of things. He’s been self-centered and lost and has learned things about himself in other people.

 

And yet the bacon that he slides from the drawer, which still has a dent in it from Luther getting pissed that one morning, is the same brand that he’s skimmed his eyes over tens of hundreds of times. He hasn’t properly spoken to his siblings as a brother in years and now the apocalypse is hanging over them. But the mansion hasn’t changed physically. Reginald is dead, so the haunting fear of their adoptive father has lifted, leaving some of the corners lighter for his absence. His death, though, has brought other horrors.

 

Diego looks and is different now – the scar on his face is accompanied by shifts in his person that can’t really be quantified. He’s older now just like the mansion and just like his siblings.

 

Standing in the kitchen with the bacon sizzling and a song playing from Klaus’s phone is arguably the weirdest and maybe hardest thing he’s ever done. He wants to crawl out of his skin and be able to look at it from an outsider perspective. Actually, if he's being honest, Diego doesn’t know what he wants. He needs to take off his holsters and put on a t-shirt because that’s what mode he’s in. Cook-with-Vanya-and-Klaus-and-Ben’s-ghost-mode.

 

He’s stalling out right in the middle of breakfast because he has no fucking idea how to deal with this. Sure, he never learned how to drive stick, but he knows that shifting gears is hard when you're driving a huge hunk of metal. He feels heavy and clumsy.

 

Klaus is studying his nails. He mutters something to himself, or most likely to Ben due to the angle, about needing a new coat. Then he wobbles to his feet and pads to the counter and then stands there. He looks a bit out of place, too, like he doesn’t know where to put his hands. Klaus has an excuse, though – he’s had a couple of breakdowns in the past hours because of all that's been going on and so he must be in pain at this very moment. It doesn’t seem like that much of a leap to assume that he’s forgotten the ingredients necessary to make waffles. “What the fuck is a Belgian waffle? How does one get around to making one? Ben, is it essential that I make specifically Belgian waffles? From Belgia?”

 

Vanya and Diego meet eyes in the process of looking around the room. Maybe catching a glimpse of Ben isn’t possible but it sure doesn’t mean they won’t try. Klaus is talking to someone, after all. He’s communicating with their dead brother right now about their breakfast meal. Vanya shifts her weight to her other hip and continues to stir the soup of eggs that is slowly but surely becoming scrambled and edible. She’s chosen a big pan and the same stovetop that Mom always used for eggs. The knob is turned right to medium just like Mom used to do for them. Vanya always observed more than the rest of them. She must know how to make meals exactly like Mom, except for that touch of maternal love that should be impossible to find in an android. The scrambled eggs might not turn out the way that their mom made simply because she isn’t Grace, but they’ll come out the way Vanya makes them. And that should be enough.

 

After years of sorting Vanya safely into the category of ‘not enough’ and ‘not special’ and above all, ‘quite ordinary’, Diego feels oddly okay with placing her in ‘ _enough_ ’ for once in his life. Hopefully, she’ll be able to see that. Perhaps it’ll be as simple as telling her that the eggs turned out great, because they already smell nice, but judging by their childhood and the minimal interactions they’ve had recently, it’s going to be just as hard to fix things with her as with Klaus. She’s been bluntly broken on the inside and has since formed a thick but mournfully transparent wall around herself to survive. They took a hammer to her when she was young and now all that broken glass has shifted to a bearable position only out of necessity for survival.

 

Diego rubs his face with one hand and continues putting strips of bacon on the skillet. He snaps his tongs absentmindedly and leans against the counter to watch Klaus stumble around. His brother scrubs his eyes with thin fingers and opens the fridge about fifteen times in between gathering ingredients. The entire right side of the counter is covered with what’s necessary to construct a waffle.

 

“Ben- shut _up_ , Ben is really getting in my face about not fucking up the waffles. He says – get off my ass, dude – that I’ll probably undercook them, so. I’m gonna prove him wrong.”

 

“He’s really always with you, isn’t he,” Vanya says. It’s not about questioning or even clarifying; it’s about having a semi-normal, safe conversation. “You’re in the room right now, and we can’t see you, but Klaus can. Hi, Ben.”

 

Klaus looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “He’s been with me since he died. Dunno why. Dunno how. It’s not like I’ve been sober.” The topic veers somewhere darker but it feels right. They’re flanking the issue, which is scary and makes Diego’s heart beat a little faster, but Klaus is willing to talk so they’ll listen. “I could really use his help in a lot of situations.” Klaus steps away from the counter to slide a chair away from the table. He turns back and checks that he has all the ingredients he needs. “You _have_ helped, Ben. I mean that it would be nice for you to talk to other people on your own and touch things….It’s definitely not the most ideal situation. But he’s always been there with me.” _For me_. _Unlike the rest of you_. “Y’know what? If I mess this up we’re just gonna have to focus on the eggs and bacon.”

 

After that, making breakfast is a silent affair. The waffles take the longest, but they smell amazing, the waffle iron giving off waves of sweet smells. Diego elects to stay by the counter while Vanya and Klaus sit at the table. An empty chair sits between them. The three of them eat quietly except for Klaus's occasional comment to Ben.

 

Diego clears his throat. He's almost finished with his last strip of bacon. It's time to start. “We…I know that as a family, we don’t really talk it out. Dad didn’t teach us how to express jack shit, much less deal with our feelings appropriately.”

 

Klaus squints at him, his fork full of scrambled eggs halfway to his mouth. “Uh huh.”

 

“I think you would feel better if you talked about it.” Diego stares Klaus down. He isn’t one for holding things back or drawing things out. It’s always easier to just spit it out, even as he watches his brother put up his walls.

 

Klaus shifts, curling into himself like a wilting flower and wedges his elbow under himself to rest his chin on his fist. He looks away, eyes surveying the counter as if he’s searching for something. Reduced eye contact, closed-off body language – it couldn’t be more obvious that he’s uncomfortable. Diego forces himself not to cross his arms or look away. He remains relaxed and open without being overbearing. Leaning back in his chair, he lets his head tilt to the side.

 

“Thanks, but no thanks. Seems like something healthy people do.” He sets his empty fork down. Diego doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stays quiet. “Not us, I mean. Also, it’s a lot of shit to unpack. Right now doesn’t seem like a good time what with the end of the world or whatever.” Klaus finally looks over at Diego. There’s something in his eyes that makes him want to fidget. “And I have to wonder when we started caring about each other again.”

 

He feels completely out of his depth. There’s no way Diego can translate his skill in violence into some tactful way to explain that he _hasn’t_ just barely started worrying about Klaus. He has the feelings he wants to communicate but no way to get them out of his head.

 

“I’d rather just get high, anyway, so don’t you go worrying your pretty little heads about me, ‘kay?” Klaus shoves the last square of waffle in his mouth and looks off to the side again. Now that is something he can’t let go. And neither can Vanya, apparently.

 

“I-I don’t want you to do that anymore, Klaus.” Immediately, all eyes are on her. Truly, it’s only Diego and Klaus, but the combined force of their incredulous stares and her bold words makes her look like a deer caught in headlights. The panicked look on her face is surpassed by her determination. Diego feels a spark of pride and lets it grow as she continues to speak. “This family has always been _fucked_ but now that Dad is dead, we don’t have to be like that anymore. I want to help you, with everything, if you’ll allow me. Including your drug habit.”

 

At that, Klaus slides from his chair. He movements aren’t shortened by anger, though, he just sidles over to the fridge and plucks a water bottle out. “Really?”

 

His question throws them both off. He’d assumed it would be harder to convince Klaus of their true intentions. “Yes, really.”

 

He doesn’t respond. Klaus keeps his eyes locked in the direction of empty space. It could be Ben, but it wouldn’t be too weird for Klaus to just stare into the distance. His gaze is focused, though, so he must be looking at something Diego and Vanya can’t see.

 

Klaus shakes his head and looks down. “I’m good. Really nice that you’re offering but if the world is ending I don’t want to waste my time getting clean. I’d rather just be high as balls while my skin melts off.”

 

At that, Diego starts to get angry. He doesn’t even know why he feels irritation pop up inside him, he just knows that something about Klaus rejecting their help is infuriating. “Klaus, for fuck's sake! I don’t understand why you poison yourself like that! My body is a _temple_. Don’t you think you should be treating yourself the same way?” He stands, suddenly, overtaken by his own passion. “And it’s not like we’re going to sit on our asses and wait for the apocalypse to come!”

 

Klaus snorts and, after a beat, sighs. “Sorry to burst your bubble but my cravings are making me feel like my body is turning inside out, so I’m gonna go and, uh, I don’t know, find whatever stash I have in my room. I can practically feel a dead dude gearing up to appear and start screaming at me.” He seems to be done with the conversation and starts to make his way out of the room.

 

He’s not about to let his brother go again. Diego strides the distance between them and grabs Klaus’s wrist, careful not to grip too hard or pull him off his balance. “Please, Klaus.” His brother freezes. “Just talk to us.”

 

Head bowed and shoulders hunched, Klaus looks back at Diego. “It’s…it’s pretty messy,” he says. “Shouldn’t we be trying to stop the apocalypse?” At that, Diego can’t help but smile.

 

“Nah, not really.”

 

“There’s not much to do without Five, after all,” Vanya chimes in. The small, genuine smile on her face looks foreign and yet so natural all at once. She’s a bit more relaxed now. “Why don’t we go someone more comfortable to talk? If you want to, of course.”

 

With his wrist still firmly in Diego’s hand, Klaus lets out a faint grunt. “Sounds good. I kinda feel like throwing up and my skin feels like it’s on fire.” He shakes his hand out of Diego’s hold and hugs himself, looking over to his right and shaking his head slightly. “I’m okay.”

 

With Vanya on one side of Klaus and Diego on the other, the three- or, really, the four of them make their way to Klaus’s room. It’s the same in here – nothing much has really changed but there’s something achingly different about it. There isn’t a mess like when Klaus actually lived in it while the seven of them were still together under Reginald’s roof. It would seem barren if Mom and Pogo had removed any of the trademark aspects, like Klaus’s scribbles on the walls, the tea table right in the middle, the cushions on the floor, the CDs in the corner, or the various posters on the wall. With those still intact and in the exact same place they had been when Klaus left all those years ago, it still has the same energy it did before. Utterly chaotic.

 

With a long-suffering sigh, Klaus flops onto his bed. He rolls onto his side and curls up yet again. He says nothing, only gesturing vaguely around the room. They take that as the cue to just sit anywhere.

 

“Again, Klaus, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Vanya says, sounding a little more confident. He’d let them into his comfort zone – that has to mean something. Diego nods along, feeling a bit impatient, but knowing that if either of them messes up now, Klaus may not let them in again. After all, it’s not as if Reginald had nurtured trusting or forgiving attitudes.

 

Again, he waves his hand around, this time dismissive. “Apparently it’s healthy to talk about things. And _apparently_ , some of us are trying to be healthier people. Why not, y’know?” Klaus sits up slowly and snags a pillow to hug, looking nauseated, but it’s unlikely that it’s because he doesn’t want to talk. Klaus Hargreeves has never done anything he doesn’t want to do unless it involved their adoptive asshole father threatening more private training sessions – something Diego never quite understood – or some other serious punishment.

 

Diego settles his shoulder against the wall and gets comfortable in the chair he’s chosen. He watches quietly as Klaus shifts with stiff movements to lie on his stomach across his bed and face both of them. Klaus doesn’t seem to know what to say. “Why don’t we start with last night? What did, uh...what did you mean by 'let me out'?”

 

At that, Klaus tightens his arms around the pillow hugged to his chest. His flicks his eyes down to his bed. “Oh, that. Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty fan-fucking-tastically sucky.” Klaus props a flexed foot against the wall behind him and bounces it to the best of his ability. Diego knows if his brother was sitting up, his whole leg would be bouncing erratically, a tell-tale sign of increased anxiety, but he’s apparently too comfortable or weak to move. “Private training with dear ol’ daddy.” He clears his throat, his gaze distancing. “He never told any of you about it?”

 

Dread floods Diego’s stomach. He looks over at Vanya before registering that if Reginald didn’t tell him, Number Two, about something then it’s certain that he didn’t tell Vanya jack shit. From Diego’s own private training and what he could gather from Luther, Five, and Allison’s states after their training, Reginald pushed harder when it was one-on-one. It was hellish for each of them. But it’s hard to imagine what Klaus’s training would have looked like – Diego, he threw knives until his hands were bloody. He threw knives at walls, targets, and then animals, rabid, feral animals threatened and hurt into wanting to kill him. Reginald would stand to the side with a gun for his own safety and let the animals attack Diego if he was too scared to kill them before they killed him. He would shake and stutter so hard he could barely breathe afterward, running to Mom and folding himself into her lap until he could stand on his own again. Luther would come home trembling and nauseous from how hard Reginald pushed him physically, scraped and bloodied and deeply bruised. He’d sleep for hours on end after that but when Reginald pulled him aside and tell him how lacking he was, something that Diego overheard more than once, he’d train on his own until the sun set and rose again. Five, he would actually get sick every time their father pulled him away, his body so exhausted from teleporting over and over and over again, trying to get farther every time, that he would get a fever nearly every night. Allison’s voice would be gone every two weeks and she would get this glazed look in her eyes every time she interacted with any of them. Sometimes she’d ask Diego in a whisper if she’d rumored any of them without remembering. Every time Diego would catch a glimpse of the horror they all dealt with on their own, he’d feel a wave of guilt at his own jealous thoughts.

 

When Klaus would come back from private training, he’d be loud. Louder than usual, ruder than usual, and put himself in the limelight as often as possible. He’d bother all of them, including Pogo, Mom, and Vanya. Klaus would traipse into Diego’s room and talk and talk and talk until Diego physically forced him out of his room and shut the door, threatening to stick him with a knife. It never seemed like he was particularly bothered and, combined with Reginald’s irritated and disappointed look, Diego always assumed that Klaus simply screwed around until their father was too pissed off to continue the training.

 

Now, he’s not so sure.

 

Klaus clears his throat. “He tried to…get me over my fear of the dead, make me realize my potential. Never knew about what that old fart was going on about. So he would take me to a graveyard. Y’know that time I dislocated my shoulder? I tried squeezing through the bars. And I fucking got through! I did! It was badass, except for the fact that I had to pop my arm out of its socket to do it.”

 

At this point, Diego is seething. Quietly, of course, because he can’t interrupt Klaus when he’s actually opening up while sober. He’s glad Klaus likes talking – otherwise, he’s not sure Klaus would ever consider talking so openly. Diego swallows down his fury for the moment.

 

“Turns out I fucked up. Um, he stepped it up. There was a mausoleum, too, so, uh…uh, he’d lock me in there.” Klaus sucks in an uneven breath and presses his chin into the pillow. “For hours. And the spirits would just scream and _scream_ at me. Thank fuck they couldn’t touch me or else I would’ve gone batshit insane.” He lets out a manic giggle. “More than I already am, of course!” Throughout all of this, Klaus doesn’t look either of them in the eyes. He fidgets more and more with each confession. Diego’s anger rises alongside Klaus’s anxiety.

 

Vanya, sitting criss-cross on a cushion, has an expression of abject horror on her face that simply doesn’t match her surroundings. Her soft features are twisted into a mixture of pained empathy and heartfelt dismay. “God…”

 

“Whew. Heh. It was really shitty.” Klaus trembles minutely. “And that, kids, is why I got into drugs and booze!”

 

Diego drags his hand down his face slowly, willing it to stop shaking. All this time, Diego had assumed that Klaus ended up addicted out of stupidity. He’d even thought that Klaus was _weak_ for turning to something as infectious as weed and pills and alcohol. Instead, it was a defense mechanism against their father’s routine torture and the powers that Klaus was born with against his will. His brother didn’t choose this – how could they have come to the easiest conclusion without even asking if he was okay?

 

They put in minimal effort at the beginning. But it wasn’t enough. Simply asking ‘what’s wrong?’ couldn’t help. But they were inexperienced, dumb kids, who didn’t know that they should’ve asked different questions. How could they have known that it was a coping mechanism? It just seemed like Klaus was more inclined to escape into a high.

 

Shame heats Diego’s face. Now look at where they are. A wave of loathing sweeps over him, the cold and sharp face of Reginald burned into his mind. It’s so easy to remember the insidious need to appeal to his impossible standards. Their father had ingrained it into their young minds; he had taught a bunch of children that the only way to satiate their need for love and validation was to fight between themselves. The seven of them, they only had each other, but Reginald had convinced them to compete for scraps. He feels the thought of Reginald’s conditional love squeezing his diaphragm.

 

Suddenly, he stands, unable to breathe correctly. His head is starting to pound from how hard he's clenching his jaw. As he strides out of the room, Diego hears Vanya telling Klaus that _no, it’s nothing you said._

 

_It’s just hard to take it in, is all._

 

\--

 

"I think- I think that's enough," Klaus suggests. "Just for today."

 

Vanya pats Klaus’s hand and stands to leave. She holds his gaze and a bit of understanding sparks between them. Vanya’s an introvert, and even if she’s lonely and likes the idea of having friends, human interaction can still be exhausting. And right now, Klaus’s social battery is dangerously close to ‘empty’. Something in his gaunt face must give this away to his sister.

 

“We should keep this going, you know. It’s hard for Diego, but I think…it could help.” Hopefulness – it’s not something that runs in the family. A bright future for the Hargreeves children has always been a foreign concept. It’s almost funny how a positive outcome seems unattainable among the other ridiculous things going on in Klaus’s life. After all, the whole reason they’re in this situation is because of some time-traveling assassins that are after his 58-year-old brother who happened to retain his 13-year-old body when _he_ traveled back in time.

 

Vanya then brushes out of the room, near silent, and leaves Klaus to lie down. His eyes are burning for some reason. Sleep seems like a good option. After reliving some childhood memories, though, Klaus knows that going to sleep sober isn’t the best idea. He’s craving just about anything at this point but his body truly feels like it’s been wrung out. Klaus turns the idea of wiggling off the bed to jumpstart a search for his stashes over in his mind. He tests the strength and mobility of his arms; they barely move and even that hurts way too much. He'd been way too tense throughout their conversation.

 

Instead, Klaus lets his eyes wander over the posters and decorations in his room that haven’t changed a bit. He could make poems out of the many words covering his walls, just crappy little scraps of other people’s words molded to fit his half-baked idea. Klaus was never quite poetically inclined but when the spirits used to scream at him, no distraction was too stupid. His eyes land on Ben.

 

He’s sitting on the bed with his back wedged into the corner and looking significantly more miserable than usual. It can’t be because of the conversation he just had with Vanya and Diego – Klaus told Ben all about his private training years ago.

 

“Why the long face?” Eye contact is too uncomfortable at this angle, so Klaus takes advantage of that and stares at the ceiling. It’s not as if Ben likes being stared down. Klaus is the only person that Ben is used to listening to him, but even then, being perceived must be an odd experience for him. “Other than the apocalypse actually being nigh.”

 

If Ben were corporeal he probably would’ve shifted his weight. As it is, ghosts have no weight. He can’t affect the bed and he can’t really touch the sheets. Ben exists on this plane but can’t truly interact with it.

 

“They’re dumbasses,” Ben gripes, “Maybe not Vanya. As much. But they’re all so contradictory.”

 

“We’ve always been like this. A handful of dummies.”

 

“Not being able to talk directly to them, it’s just infuriating. And I can’t—” Ben stops short. This time, Klaus cranes his head back to look at his brother. He looks about as anguished as any dead guy should. His chest clenches. It’s much easier to contemplate the torture of being a spirit trapped on the mortal plane when it isn’t his own brother who’s stuck. “I can’t help you. When we were in the motel I just…it was hard seeing them do that to you. I wish I could’ve done _something_. Fucking anything would’ve been better than sitting there and watching.”

 

Ben’s been dead for years. He’s been stuck with Klaus the entire time. It was inevitable that they would talk about this at some point – and they have. It’s never been as explicit as this. Disappointment radiates from his brother in palpable waves. He wants to do something about it but anything short of resurrecting Ben feels inadequate. It’s too bad he hasn’t potentially unlocked that part of his powers – if that's at all possible – but even so, he has to let Ben know that he isn’t useless.

 

It’s time to get serious. “You’ve done more for me while dead than the rest of our siblings and they’re all alive.” Ben scoffs and turns away. Klaus’s joints creak and very loudly protest but his brother needs to hear this properly. Sitting up, he starts again, “No, listen. When you died, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. None of us reached out to each other. Lo and behold, the only person who comforted me after you died was _you_.” Ben cards his hand through his hair violently. His hood falls – a rare occurrence that Klaus knows is a sign of trust. It’s not as if years of only speaking to each other about anything and everything didn’t cultivate a deep bond but…they still have boundaries. If Ben doesn’t have his hood on, it means he’s comfortable, and he’s letting Klaus see more than he usually does.

 

“That’s not what I’m saying. The only thing I can do is talk! I can’t hug you or punch you or kick Luther in the nuts or anything useful!”

 

Seems like Klaus needs to bust out the big guns. “I- Ben, the only reason I’m alive right now is because of you—”

 

“—That’s not true, and you know it—”

 

“Listen, asshole! You’re the sole reason I didn’t kill myself, okay?” Ben looks stunned. “I’m not gonna lie. Every waking moment I’d have dead people screaming at me and if they weren’t screaming, they’d just confuse and distract me. I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to die. I mean, shit hasn’t gotten any better or easier, but…having you around reminded me of the good ol’ days. Before Reggie took me to the mausoleum for the first time and before we all collectively decided that survival was only possible by turning on each other. For better or for worse, Benny-boy, I’m still alive ‘cuz of you. Not even Diego could say he did that for me.”

 

Ben’s forehead remains scrunched but he eases back into the corner again. His legs stretch out next to Klaus. Ben offers no heat but the companionship is so familiar and effortless that it doesn’t matter. “Sorry I freaked out.”

 

_Sorry?_ Klaus should be the one apologizing. Maybe if Ben hadn’t died so close to him, he wouldn’t be stuck. Maybe he would still be alive if Klaus had just stood up to Reginald and kept his brother safe. “I dunno why you’re apologizing. You’re the one that’s stuck with me. You’re the one that deals with my shitty habits. And I’m not exactly boring but it can’t be fun only being able to talk to me.”

 

Ben seems to contemplate this for a moment. “You may be a total idiot, dude but I wouldn’t leave even if I could.” Okay, yeah. That hit hard. A lump forms in his throat and his eyes prickle. Looking over at Ben, Klaus can tell their conversation has had the same effect on him.

 

The waves of pain all over his body prove too much for Klaus. He lies down again - though it’s more like he goes limp and there happens to be a bed beneath him - and rolls onto his side to face the wall. It doesn’t hurt that he can see Ben like this. He’s grown used to having his brother in the corner of his eye at all times, if not right next to him. Ben doesn’t need sleep and he isn’t technically capable of it – the most he can do is zone out pretty heavily and call it ‘dozing’. So, Klaus has someone to watch his back while he sleeps.

 

Klaus reaches out, knowing that Ben will do the same and that his fingers will go blue. It doesn’t matter that Ben will pass right through his fingers – they both know that it’s irrational. And yet, it’s something so oddly personal and familiar that provides more comfort than is reasonable.

 

On the brink of sleep, Klaus almost doesn’t register the chilly fingers that curl around his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please continue to comment! You guys were so patient since the last update, I hope you can keep that up!


	6. Just A Little While to Freshen Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: _On the brink of sleep, Klaus almost doesn't register the chilly fingers that curl around his hand._
> 
> Klaus and Ben get a surprise and for once, it's a good one. Later, Five and Klaus break the ice with a bit of mutual freaking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking like 3 months to write this, lots of things happened. I moved! For the first time in 7 years! Along the way, my muse moved on from Klaus, to be honest, but I still adore the show and writing this story has been very fun and a confidence booster. Anyways, I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes, I don't have a beta reader. Hope you guys enjoy!

_Sometimes, Reginald would be so busy up in his study with his face crammed into his journal that the kids would have time to breathe.  During these little slots of respite and tentative relaxation, Grace would watch over all seven of them.  Of course, they were conditioned very effectively, so one afternoon without the overbearing presence and disappointed gaze of their adopted father was not enough to heal them.  But it was enough to let them pretend._

_Luther and Diego would be prone to tussling in the grass.  Somehow it was so easy to see that their competition wasn’t as malicious as it usually was.  Reginald’s influence on those two ran deep, even though it affected them in completely different ways, and so they wouldn’t be completely free of the pressure to be the best.  For Luther, the threat of being knocked down in the ranking was always at the back of his mind, dangled there like the opposite of a carrot on a stick.  More like a bed of nails not to fall onto.  For Diego, it was the thought that he was always just short of being the best – if he just tried a little harder, he could be Number One, and even though he hated Reginald, he struggled with this desire.  Without him around…the two of them could live a few hours as real children do._

_Allison liked to read and listen to Vanya’s playing.  Even with free time, Vanya would always be playing.  Her violin was virtually an extension of herself those days; it was a comfort item and no one had any reason to take it away from her.  So she played for them, and herself, and when she finally didn’t feel like it anymore, she could place her violin in its case in the grass and sit with her sister.  Allison, she loved to joke with her siblings, tease them and try to make them laugh.  The few times she ever laughed so hard she cried just rolling around cackling were all contained within these types of afternoons._

_Five, in all his no-nonsense attitude, still enjoyed watching his siblings run around the garden.  Though he felt caged in by the looming walls and never bothered to delude himself into thinking that this freedom could last, Five felt that these afternoons had saved him.  He never would have entertained the concept of taking his own life – he was quite the stubborn bastard, after all – but there were other ways of losing oneself.  Among the tortuous private training sessions and widening chasms between his siblings, Five could have slipped through the cracks.  They all could have.  He may pride himself on his mental fortitude, but there’s a certain line he could not have crossed without losing a chunk of his personality.  It’s easy to imagine becoming a pale, hollow version of himself – the version that Reginald strode to carve from them.  Instead, Five sat and watched and even allowed his siblings to pull him into their games._

_Klaus, he flitted among his siblings while dragging along a dutiful Ben.  Without Reginald to scold him about his choices in fashion, Klaus would also raid Allison’s closet with her assistance and blessing.  With freshly painted nails, eyeliner framing bright green eyes, and whatever pretty thing caught his eye that day, Klaus did whatever first came to mind.  If he wanted to bake something sugary sweet, he would.  Most often he’d sigh over boys with Alli, force Luther to give him and Ben a piggyback ride, and make flower crowns with whatever faded spirit managed to wander into the garden.  He had a lot of things he wanted to do but the peaceful afternoons were decidedly few and far between._

_On one such afternoon, Klaus had been trying to learn how to somersault.  His neck kind of hurt and there was grass all over him but he’d finally managed to roll perfectly.  Giggling breathlessly, he had turned to Ben and extended a hand to his brother.  Ben grinned up at him._

_Klaus misses those days when he could grab and poke his brother, show him that he's there with a hand on the shoulder. Back then he didn't relate touch to pain. Reginald treated them like dirt, but he never hurt them. He misses playing pattycake with Ben. His heart aches thinking of that afternoon - it was the last day they had together before Ben died. Now the last time anyone touched him is when Hazel beat him, and before that was when the EMT resuscitated him. Klaus reaches out, his subconscious begging for something he knows he can't have anymore._

 

A hand wraps around his own.  Klaus’s eyes pop open.  Ben sits up ramrod straight.

 

“Holy shit!”  Klaus yelps.  Scrambling to sit up, he looks at their clasped hands.  Then, he meets Ben’s eyes.

 

In an instant, they’re wrapping their arms around each other.  Klaus is almost knocked over and his muscles scream in protest but he couldn’t care less.  He hasn’t been able to hug Ben for years and years and years and now he can feel his brother trembling with shock.

 

“What- what the hell—”

 

“I don’t know!”  Klaus tightens his hold on Ben, suddenly petrified that this new corporeal-ness will be pulled away from him.  He grabs handfuls of Ben’s jacket and presses closer and breathes because otherwise he’ll get too caught up in the confusion – and maybe confusion is the only thing keeping him solid. 

 

"How are you doing this?"

 

"I don't know!"

 

"How is this even possible?"

 

"I don't know!" They both laugh breathlessly. "I was just dreaming about something, from- from before, when you were still alive, and I sort of thought about reaching out and grabbing your hand and I just- I don't know."

 

“Is this what Reginald was talking about?”

 

“I guess that shitty old man was right,” Klaus sighs.  “The worst person I know was just proven right.  It’s bittersweet.”

 

Ben shakes his head as much as possible when they’re this close.  His hair brushes Klaus’s ear.  It sucks the breath from his lungs.  “I was going to say that your powers are so much cooler than everyone else's, dude.  Who gives a flying fuck about Reginald?”

 

Giggling hysterically, Klaus pulls back just a bit, hands firmly on Ben’s arms to keep him close.  The light bounces off of his skin instead of going straight through him.  Somehow, he’d always looked so sickly.  Now his cheeks scrunch up from his grin.  He almost looks alive.

 

Grief wells up in Klaus’s chest and he can’t help but fold forward again.  No matter how real this is – their hug, Ben’s tears, the solid mass of a body – he can’t ignore that Ben is giving off no heat. 

 

Ben is still dead. 

 

He is still dead. 

 

Klaus can’t save him.

 

Given that no one in this damn dysfunctional family has very good coping mechanisms, it isn’t a surprise that even after so long, Klaus hasn’t _actually_ processed his brother’s death.  Maybe it’s the unique situation that they’re in.  Not many other people, if any, have the chance to hold their dead loved ones after their passing.

 

He doesn’t want to cry on Ben.  But a sob is building in his throat and his heart is beating too fast. He doesn’t have the physical strength to muffle his crying anymore.  Klaus weeps and it feels like he’s coughing up a bundle of lung tissue that fossilized.  It feels like he’s pulled a band-aid off and discovered rotting flesh underneath, a whole chunk of himself ripped from him so fast he barely felt it, and now that they’ve started to clean the wound it stings so much he wants to scream. 

 

Crying this hard, his sobs make his head pound because he isn’t breathing properly.  He has to breathe in so desperately that he sounds like he’s being drowned.

 

It’s so damn absurd.  Sitting here on his childhood bed holding his dead brother in his arms and only getting more upset because he can’t work out if calling Ben dead is completely accurate. It’s bizarre. 

 

It’s funny because he isn’t even the one who died.  Ben died, and it was a while ago, and it was when they were kids.  So, Ben, a child, died.  Could anyone blame Klaus for not accepting that?  He simply got stuck in between one of the stages of grief.  People like to remind each other that the Kubler-Ross model isn’t linear, so no one should be surprised that Klaus’s timeline looks like a tangle instead of a nice, straight line from denial to acceptance.  It’s just that the practical application of his experience is so much messier when it’s not on paper.

 

He’s an ugly crier and it runs in the family.  They may not be biologically related but spending as much time together as they did when they were young does have consequences.  One of which is subconsciously picking up on each other’s habits.  Vanya and Klaus are ugly criers, probably the worst of them, but then so is Luther.  Maybe everyone is an ugly crier.  Ben is holding him too close for him to see but childhood memories that haven’t been destroyed by his addiction reassure him that he, too, cries with a scrunched-up face getting all red and a runny nose.  These are normal characteristics of a crying human, and now that Klaus feels catharsis breaking all his bones that healed wrong so that they can be reset, he has no idea why there’s the concept of an ‘ugly crier’.  You can’t be ugly if you’re in so much pain that the concept of beauty doesn’t exist anymore.  You can’t be ugly if the sheer magnitude of emotion running through your body leaves you exhausted.  There’s no such thing as an ugly crier when, after you’re done, you understand that this is the only time feeling empty is okay and healthy, to a certain degree.  (Maybe Klaus is so fucked up that his routine after crying has never varied from emptiness; maybe feeling like someone scraped him out after crying so hard he almost gags is, in fact, not the norm.)

 

 

 

When his tears finally start to slow down, he feels the heat in his face and knows his eyes are red and his skin is splotchy.  Sniffling, Klaus leans back from Ben and tries not to think about how lucky they are that he’s still corporeal.  He wipes at his face but his face is soaked with tears and snot.

 

“Sorry about that,” he mutters, rubbing his too-hot eyes.  His head feels stuffed.

 

Ben leans back but drapes his legs over Klaus’s.  His voice shakes minutely despite his lighthearted tone when he speaks, “Don’t apologize.  You know the drill.  Life sucks, crying happens, and then snot appears.”

 

Klaus nods.  Being tethered together for so long meant that they’ve weathered some heavy shit.  Through the years, the two of them have managed to trudge through breakdowns without being able to touch each other.  The fact that one of them is an addict and one of them is a ghost means that plenty of crappy things have happened to them.  The point is, Klaus knows not to apologize profusely for feeling like a burden, but he slips up sometimes. 

 

Klaus pats Ben’s shins where they rest on his, feeling the solidness give way a bit.  The effort of keeping Ben corporeal is giving him a splitting headache on top of the rest of his injuries.  Looking up, he sees Ben staring down at the spot where Klaus’s hand is starting to sink through.  A faint blue glow appears there. 

 

“These cool powers are hard,” he mutters.  “I bet Luther doesn’t get a headache just from having muscles.”

 

“Yeah but he looks like a monkey. And it’s fine, y'know, these powers are really new.  You’re going to have to train again.  At least this time there won’t be any mausoleums.” 

 

The blue glow spreads to the rest of Ben.  It flickers out, leaving only the transparent ghost of his brother.  He misses the contact immediately, having been touch starved for so long before this. Even with Diego carrying him around everywhere since he was mostly unconscious for that. 

 

Klaus rubs at his temple with shaking hands.  “Yeah, no mausoleums.  Just a lot of naps, I think.”  There’s an icy spike digging into the back of his eyeball.  His whole body is shaking now.  He’s craving but if Klaus is intoxicated he won't be able to use this new power. If he goes right back to being high all the time...it'll be too hard to stop.  “Right now is a good time.”

 

Ben scoots back down so that the two of them can lie down.  Even though he's exhausted and as comfortable as he’ll get, all Klaus can do is stare at the wall behind Ben.  Everything is irritating him, from the headache to the very fact that he just can’t fall asleep.  The only thing that can help is getting high.  Anything would calm him down, nicotine, weed, whatever.  He’s tired enough to pass out again but he’s just too uncomfortable, so maybe if he eats something, he'll feel better. After all, he hasn't eaten since before those two psychos grabbed him.

 

Ben doesn’t ask him where they’re going, he just follows along.  He can probably tell that Klaus is craving without having to ask.  They’re both too exhausted to talk on the way to the kitchen.  It’s quiet, which is disconcerting given the chaos that usually occurs in here, but not awkward.  Sometimes Klaus just needs some silence and Ben gets tired of trying so hard to feel normal.  Just existing together is peaceful enough.

 

Klaus opens the fridge.  The headache pounding at his temples has only gotten worse and the rest of his bruises still hurt. He groans and leans forward, resting his forehead on the cold freezer door. "Mmph."

 

“Nice to know still leave the fridge door open,” Five’s voice comes from behind.

 

At that, Klaus jumps and whips around to see Five leaning against the wall.  Five flashes him a smug little smirk, leaving Klaus to huff and puff in exaggerated annoyance. Though he's tired, he also missed Five during the long years he was gone, and something about the opportunity to mess with him is reinvigorating.

 

“You almost gave your darling older brother a heart attack!”  Cocking his head, Klaus rethinks his statement. He saunters over to his brother, legs weak and threatening to buckle under him.  “I guess technically you’re older but…I can still do this so it doesn’t count.”  Klaus reaches forward to ruffle Five’s hair, which is parted exactly as it was back when they were kids, before retracting his hand quickly to avoid his teeth.  “You’re more feral than before.” 

 

Smoothing down his hair, Five shoots back, “So are you.”

 

“It’s not an insult.”

 

“I know.” Then, Five clears his throat. He looks up at Klaus with unwavering eye contact. "I'm sorry. All I'm trying to do is save you guys and I didn't think that Hazel and Cha-Cha would take you. Either way, I should have done something."

 

Klaus remembers the altercation from earlier. The fury welling up in him, his only outlet to yell at his siblings. The sting of betrayal had overtaken him. Even though he had known that exerting that much energy wouldn't end well, Klaus couldn't stop himself. "You guys..." Klaus sighs. He limps back to the table and sinks down. "It really fucking sucked knowing that no one was looking for me. Like, I know the end of the world is coming, sort of, but fuck, dude. I was tortured by the people _you're_ looking for and the only reason Diego came was that his detective friend called him. Otherwise, I'm sure my body would have turned up at the nearest river because everyone knows that good ol' Addict Klaus gets himself into trouble. Everyone has something better to do than help him, right?"

 

He stops to catch his breath. Ben reaches his hand out wordlessly. Klaus shifts his hand to rest next to his brother's.

 

Five stays where he is by the entrance. His expression is one of concern, his body language that of defeat, somber in the way he crosses his arms. "You didn't deserve that, regardless of what your habits are like. It may be redundant to say as much, but we should have looked for you. I know there is nothing I can do to make up for what happened to you, and I'm sorry."

 

"I mean, you can make it up for me. I'm going sober."

 

His brother's eyebrows shoot up. "Just like that?"

 

"I have my reasons, dear brother, important reasons. I'll tell you later though." He wouldn't want to get anyone's hopes up without the evidence to prove it. Plus, it's only fair that Klaus gets to keep stuff from his siblings when all they do is ignore him. "Anyway, I'm a very determined, resourceful young man and I might need your help."

 

"Right." Five nods. "First, I do have to stop the apocalypse. That's not an excuse, by the way, the world is ending in several days."

 

"I _guess_ that's reasonable."

 

With that, the air clears.  Having Five back in the same body he had when they lost him has been odd, to say the least.  It’s weird with him back. They'd gotten used to his absence. The others have been having a hard time adjusting to his presence. They don't know how to act around him.  Klaus, on the other hand, is just glad to have him back and has been caught up in his own kidnapping to care about the societal intricacies of welcoming his brother back to the timeline.  As long as he's not dead.

 

Klaus's stomach grumbles loudly. He shuffles over to the fridge and leans against the open door.  Fully stocked, as usual.  Nothing much appeals to him but he snatches the gallon of milk anyway. He nearly drops it, his shaking hands so weak that he has to put it down on the table.  Maybe he can wash some bread down with the milk and feel full enough to fall asleep.  In the pantry, he finds his favorite cookies and decides it couldn’t hurt to shovel a pack of them into his mouth and hope for the best.

 

Five is sitting at the chair that Ben had been in and Ben is sitting across from him, head in his arms.  That usually happens when Klaus doesn’t tell everyone what space Ben is occupying and it happens so often that there’s no reason to get annoyed anymore.  Hopefully, with more training, Ben can be corporeal more often and won’t have to deal with that anymore.  It must still grate on him to be passed through and have to move somewhere else.

 

“So,” Klaus starts.  “Time travel.  Something about a walnut, if I recall.”  He sits next to Ben. 

 

“Acorn.  But, yes.  Go ahead and ask.”

 

Klaus assumes that everyone has been asking him what he saw in the future.  Or maybe they’ve been asking him about the people in the masks.  Either way, he doesn’t care about those things. If the apocalypse is really coming, what is there to do? What is there for Klaus to do?  He does want to know how his brother is doing.

 

“How’s it going?”  He pops a cookie into his mouth.  The gallon of milk, he realizes, is too heavy for him to pick up. He's getting more and more tired.  He has to resort to tipping it over into his mouth.

 

Sighing, Five stands and makes his way to the cupboard.  “You know that’s not what I meant.  I’m fine.”  He grabs a cup and sits back down.  Reaching over, he fills the cup halfway with milk and slides it back over to Klaus.

 

“I disagree!”  Klaus’s words are muffled through the cookies in his mouth.  The chocolate chips sticking to his teeth are washed down by a huge gulp of milk.  “Time travel has made you even crankier than before.”  His neck is getting itchier the longer he isn’t high but there's nothing to do about that.  “So how are you really doing, big guy?”

 

Frustrated, Five runs a hand through his hair.  The perfect part falls back into place.  “Fucking fantastic. I can’t find a good goddamn cup of coffee and _you_ got kidnapped and tortured by two time-assassins that followed _me_ and we’re just sitting here in the dark because no one bothers to listen to me!”  He takes a deep breath and digs his fingers into his temple.

 

Klaus glances at Ben, eyes wide, before leaning forward and patting Five’s shoulders.  Beneath the familiar vest and shirt and undershirt, Five is still just as skinny as he was before.  Skinnier, even.  He wonders if Five has eaten anything in the last few days.

 

“Hey, it’s okay.  I’m a-okay lil’ dude.  Er, old dude.  Old dude in a lil’ dude body.  All I need is a nice nap and I’ll be right back to normal.”

 

Groaning, Five lets his head fall to the table.  He scrubs the back of his hair, leaving a cowlick, and then stands up in one swift motion.  “None of this is normal!  You’re not okay and I don’t know what to do about that. I don't know a lot of shit because my only clue is a prosthetic eyeball but _that's_ fucked too. So right now all I can do is kill Hazel, I guess, when that's done, all I have is the _fucking_ eyeball and impending apocalypse! If I fail the world is going to end _again_ and then if I'm still alive, the Commission is going to kill me! And all I ask of this shitty family is a decent cup of coffee and what do I get? Jack shit! And it's my fault that Hazel and Cha-Cha grabbed you because they're looking for me!”  His rant leaves him panting and red-faced.

 

“Ah, jeez.”  Klaus wipes the cookie crumbs off his face before dusting his hands off and standing.  Carefully, he intercepts Five’s frantic pacing and wraps his arms around his brother.  “Slow down, take it easy.  There’s a lot to unpack there.  Time for a session with Dr. Klaus.”  Five doesn’t struggle but he also doesn’t return the hug.  Instead, he lets Klaus shuffle them over to the couch in the living room.  The short walk is enough to wind him.  Five ends up helping him walk with an arm around his waist.  “Listen, I’m pretty sure those two freaks would have snatched one of us, so it was just bad luck that I got the short straw.  Well, I guess it’s my fault since I’m not a barbarian like Diego or Luther, and I don’t go around swinging people into the ceiling or whatever those two like to do.  It’s a miracle Vanya didn’t get her head squished like a little bug!”  Klaus pats Five's shoulder.  "Anyway, if you're right about the end of the world coming in like a week or something, we still have time to figure things out.  I don't know what you mean by the eyeball schtick at all but I do know that our darling siblings don't want to die in a fiery worldwide explosion, so we'll all pitch in."  Five stops shaking and even leans in a bit into Klaus's side hug.  "By the way, which one is the one that's still alive?"

 

"Hazel."

 

Nodding, Klaus sighs, "Hazel.  The man with the blue mask.  I hate that bitch.  He tore my nails off."  The words bring back the memory of Hazel clamping a pair of pliers down on his nail and yanking, a horrible, nauseating pain immediately tearing a scream from him. “I gotta say, I’m glad that no one else got taken, but I still wish it wasn’t me.  Is that fucked up?  Out of everyone, why did they pick me?  It’s not like anyone lets me in on anything.  I had no information to give them.  I mean, I said as much, but they thought I was lying!  What a pair of assholes, huh?”  Anxiety starts to crawl up his skin, anger and confusion and memories, mixing in his brain.  His leg starts bouncing and he can’t seem to stop talking.  "I  _told_ you I have no information!"

 

Five squeezes his shoulder.  “Klaus!  Breathe.  Calm down, look at me.  You’re fine.  We’re fine.  You aren't there anymore.”  He maintains eye contact, waiting until Klaus nods and breathes easier to pull away.  “And here I was thinking that everyone would be different once I came back.  Turns out we’re all just as fucked up as we were before.” 

 

He can’t help but laugh.  For Klaus, there was no doubting that his siblings would be just as messed up as adults as they were when they were children.  He had grown up with them, after all, and watched as Reginald continued to torment them and twist them against each other.  Even after he’d left, the others hung on to the last vestiges of their ‘family’, and according to Vanya’s book, things had only gotten worse with each absence.  They both get quiet.

 

Full and exhausted, Klaus starts to slump against the couch. 

 

“I’m sorry.  Even if you don’t want to acknowledge it, it was my fault that you got taken.  So if you need to talk about what happened, I’m here.  We do need to stop the apocalypse but I think you're right.  I'm going to need everyone to cooperate.  For now, I guess...”  Five trails off.  Humming his approval, Klaus keeps his eyes closed.  After a moment, he blinks and looks down at Five.  He’s looking up at Klaus with earnest concern in his eyes. 

 

Five teleports away.  Without his support, Klaus slides down the rest of the way.  He uses the last of his energy to stretch out on the couch.  In the corner of his eye, he spots Ben curled up on the other couch.  His eyes slide closed.  Out of nowhere, a blanket settles down over his body.  Another two cover him.  They’re fluffy and warm.  A hesitant hand pats his shoulder.  Clothes rustle quietly.  He presumes it’s Five sitting down on the floor and leaning against the couch, his shoulders brushing against the blankets.

 

“I’ll keep watch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that the serious bit with Klaus and Five isn't too OOC. It's hard to maintain a character's voice when I don't have a canon scene/situation to refer to. No one really took Klaus seriously in the show and he never had the opportunity to demand an apology or respect...my poor baby. I'm having feelings about it all over again. Are y'all ready for the last chapter? :3c
> 
>  **Please take a second to leave a comment!** Or, if you prefer to give feedback on Tumblr, here's mine!  
> [captainjames-loveswriting](https://captainjames-loveswriting.tumblr.com/)


	7. This is Now the Worst-Case Scenario

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is the absolute worst-case scenario, right?
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah I actually didn't intend for the number of chapters to be 7, what a lovely coincidence.

_APPROXIMATELY FOUR DAYS BEFORE THE END OF THE WORLD (Give or take a few hours.)_

_THE HARGREEVES MANSION_

Five has been sitting against the couch that Klaus is sleeping on for a handful of hours.  The mansion is peach full while everyone sleeps.  Nothing out of the ordinary has happened.  Diego came down to join him a few minutes ago.  Something has been bothering Five, and since they both have nothing better to do, he decides to ask Diego.

 

“So,” Five whispers, “I was wondering.  Ben is dead, right?”

 

“He died a couple of weeks after you disappeared.”  Diego continues inspecting his knife.  "It was an accident during a mission."

 

“Yeah, I checked the news.”  The library which held Vanya’s book also had a collection of newspapers centered around the Umbrella Academy activities.  The newspapers clipping had stopped around half a year after Ben’s death.  The last article about them was on the disbanding of the group, speculating that Ben’s death and Five’s disappearance had caused Reginald to fear the demise of his remaining precious children.  His question, however, isn’t of the event itself.  “So, did Klaus ever see him?”

 

Now that gets him to look up. Diego sheathes his knife.  “Before, he wasn’t very clear about it.  Sometimes he would tell us not to sit somewhere because Ben was there.  Sometimes he would talk as though Ben wasn't around at all.  Earlier though, when Vanya asked him about it, he said that Ben’s been with him since he died.  I don’t know exactly why Ben would stick around but I do think I remember Klaus talking to him, crying, sometime after the funeral.”  Diego frowns.  “He doesn’t know how Ben is still around since he can’t conjure people while he’s high.  And he hasn't been sober for a while."

 

That raises more questions but he isn’t going to wake Klaus up right now.  His brother hasn’t stirred once tonight.  He deserves to sleep well.  Five is getting restless though.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to look over Klaus and keep him safe, but there’s no way to keep him safe if the apocalypse comes and everyone dies again.

 

Five gets to his feet.  While he doesn’t necessarily enjoy being a child again, it is nice to be able to get up without every bone in his body creaking and cracking, and his smaller mass makes it even easier to teleport. 

 

He wishes his short stature had made Hazel and Cha-Cha a little more hesitant to kill him but he knows that those two are pretty ruthless.  Even Hazel, someone whose capacity for cruelty pales in comparison to his late partner, stood out among the other agents.  He could carry out missions grumbling the entire time as if it were just some overtime at an office job instead of torturing and killing people throughout time.

 

Too bad he’s Five’s next target.

 

The funny thing is, Five has learned not to make solid plans.  He knows that plans rarely ever go the way he wants them to.  It’s safer to have a goal in mind and then just make it up as you go rather than go into meticulous detail.  That’s why he time traveled back with only an eyeball as a clue and no solid plan besides that.  But sometimes he really wishes the universe wouldn’t be as incomprehensibly horrible as it truly is.

 

One of those times is right now, walking toward the main entrance of the mansion, and then watching as both doors are blown clean off their hinges.  The sound is so damn loud, accompanied by the screech of the wooden doors scraping along the floor, that he knows everyone in the mansion heard it.  Five teleports back to the living room, not turning away, eyes trained on the entrance. 

 

The huge form walking towards him is unmistakable.  Hazel’s back.

 

* * *

 

_45 MINUTES EARLIER_

_INSIDE THE POLICE DEPARTMENT HOLDING CELL_

 

Hazel is sitting in his cell when a man in a black suit pops into existence in front of him.  He holds two briefcases, one open and the other tucked under his arm.  The man closes his briefcase, glowers at him, and sets the other one down. 

 

“The Commission wishes to inform you of a formal reprimand and punishment waiting for you.  First, you must take out the target you were first assigned.”  The man’s voice is deep and monotone.  “You will not be paired with another agent.  Once you have completed your assignment, you will report back to headquarters.  Understood?”

 

Hazel stares down at his hands.  His wrist aches even though the police let him keep his brace.  Anger swells up in him.  Cha-Cha is dead.  Even though she could be a real pain in the ass, she was his only friend aside from Agnes.  And that son of a bitch killed her. 

 

The Commission has too much power – he could never disappear with Agnes like this.  Maybe if he retires, they’ll let him live.  But as is, they’d find him and Agnes in under a week and kill them both.  There’s no other option than to take out his rage on those who earned it and see if the Handler will spare him.

 

“Understood.”

 

The man nods and opens his briefcase up again, popping right out of existence again.  No officers have come by to check on him.  They've learned their lesson; Hazel didn't say a word throughout the various interrogations.  He’ll slip out without anyone noticing with the help of the briefcase, grab the biggest gun he has from wherever they’re holding his car, fill Five and his freak siblings full of lead, and see what the Commission will do with him.  Hopefully, those idiots are still at the mansion. 

 

* * *

 

_45 MINUTES AFTER HAZEL ESCAPED_

_THE HARGREEVES MANSION_

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”  Diego yells, whipping another knife out of its sheath, running to Five’s side.  “Get down!”  He pushes his brother down to avoid a barrage of bullets.  Behind them, windows shatter.

 

At the entrance, Hazel shouts something that Diego can’t hear over the gunshots.  He looks deranged.  In his hands is a huge gun pointed right at them.  Frantically, he grabs Five’s arm and scuttles back, looking around wildly for Klaus.  He finds him diving off the couch, throwing off the blankets and crawling quickly toward them.

 

“I thought you said he was in custody!”   Klaus shrieks.  “Why is he back?!”

 

The three of them run for cover, Diego steering them upstairs to grab the rest of their siblings.  Hazel’s footsteps thud in the other hallway, his voice booming throughout the mansion.  He can only catch snippets of Hazel’s words.  The man is furious.  Even without context, the words ‘Cha-cha’, ‘kill’, and ‘sons of bitches’ are enough to guess what he wants.

 

Shaking his head, Diego pounds on his siblings’ doors, “I don’t know.  I have to call Eudora, I have to make sure she’s safe, but first, we need to do something about that goddamn gun.”

 

“What the hell is going on?”  Luther squeezes past his door frame.  Allison and Vanya run up beside him, the six of them huddling close as Diego drags them back down the hall. 

 

Vanya’s looks horrified, arms hugging her body.  “Don’t tell me it’s—”

 

“Yeah, Hazel is back and he’s here for me.”  Five scowls deeply.  He breaks off from the group and strides into his room, ignoring their protests.  He comes back out with a gun of his own - a sizable pistol - and an armful of ammunition and says, “The Commission busted him out.  That briefcase is a time travel device, he must have used it to escape.”  He takes the safety off.  “I’ll take care of him, you guys get out of here.”

 

At once, the five of them refuse, and Klaus reaches out to grab Five’s arm.  Despite his state – disoriented from waking up, still weak from the torture, and undoubtedly afraid of being met with his torturer – his grip on Five is enough to keep him back. 

 

“Absolutely not,” Klaus exclaims, “I think I deserve to get a few hits in!”

 

Allison shakes her head.  “We’re not going to leave you here.  Let us help, Five.”

 

“He’s too strong to take alone,” Luther chimes in, “I know from experience.”

 

The ice in Five’s eyes melts.  “Fine, fine, okay?  Just let me teleport over and take his gun and we can deal with him together.  Is that good enough?”  Though his voice is tinged with frustration and urgency, Five isn’t actually angry.  Diego can see some relief in his eyes.  Time may be running out but he must be happy to have his siblings at his back.

 

Klaus lets go, and he immediately continues down the hall, the rest of his siblings following behind in a tight clump.  “Watch out, this might get ugly.  Vanya, you stay back.”  She nods reluctantly, knowing she can't help against someone like Hazel.  Good.  Diego isn’t going to watch her get hurt when the rest of them are capable of keeping her safe.  Of course, Diego also doesn’t want Klaus anywhere near Hazel, but he knows there’s nothing he can do to stop him.

 

Diego, Five, Klaus, Luther, and Allison stumble out into the second-floor foyer.  Below them is empty but for rubble.  On the other side of the second story platform is Hazel.  As soon as he spots them, he’s aiming his gun. 

 

The ‘pop’ of teleportation sounds and suddenly, Five is hanging onto Hazel, arms wrapped around his gun.  Before he can shoot, Five teleports back.  Five deposits the gun back at Diego’s feet.  Hazel looks down at his empty hand and clenches his fist.  He’s shaking so violently that Diego can see from where he stands.

 

“I’ll just have to strangle you!”  His words are clearer now without the constant spray of bullets muffling them.  “Get back here you little shit.  You ruined my life!”

 

“Right back at you, buckaroo.”  Klaus waves at him and then flips him off.  Hazel roars and charges over.  Luther meets him in the middle, the two of them exchanging vicious blows upon contact.

 

After that, Diego loses track of who says what, and only works on keeping his siblings alive.  He can only watch as Luther and Hazel grapple.  They're so physically matched that it’s dangerous to approach.  Even the five of them fighting together isn’t enough. 

 

The assassin manages to land a hit so hard that Luther is down for the time being, dazed and half-conscious.  Allison gets tossed down the stairs before she can rumor Hazel, knocked right out.  After taking down two of them, Hazel is still going strong.

 

Diego only catches quick glimpses of Five and he flits around, teleporting onto Hazel and trying to shoot him, only to be flung off.  Along the way, they’ve retreated back into the living room downstairs. 

 

He’s running out of knives.  Only half of his blades have hit Hazel, which should be enough, but he’s still standing.  Like a bull, Diego’s knives only serve to enrage Hazel further.  The towering man flings out his huge fist in a right hook.  Diego ducks, knees smashing into the floor.  Hazel reaches down to grab him by the head, too fast for him to move.  Before he can, Klaus slides in front of him, arms flung open. 

 

Diego can only watch as Hazel grabs onto Klaus’s neck.  He lifts Klaus, ignoring the way the smaller man’s nails bite into his arm.  “Klaus!”  Diego scrambles to his feet.  Hazel tightens his fist around Klaus’s windpipe.  Desperately, Diego shoves his last knife into Hazel’s shoulder.  While he’s distracted, Klaus kicks him in the jaw, hard.  Hazel flails as Five teleports onto his shoulder again.  While Five punches him in the nose, Klaus writhes, feet connecting with any part of Hazel he can reach.

 

Finally, Hazel lets him go, tossing Klaus into a column.  He hits the solid wood with a loud thud, but in his arms is the briefcase.  Diego lunges forward and takes the opportunity to kick him in the groin.  Hazel violently waves his uninjured arm, slapping Diego back as if he weighs as much as a fly.

 

“Jesus _Christ_ you all are animals.”  He looks down and sees his briefcase is gone.  “Oh goddamnit.  Give that back, you fucking maggot, or I’ll—” 

 

In that split second of confusion, Five jams the barrel of his pistol against Hazel’s temple.

 

He shoots.  Hazel crumples, deadweight.  The briefcase in Klaus’s lap, beat up as it is, flies open.

 

Five jumps off of Hazel's body as it's falling.  Another ‘pop’ sounds.  But Five didn’t teleport.

 

“Oh god.”  Diego feels sick. 

 

“No, no, no, no.” Five’s hands are shaking.  “ _Fuck!_ ”

 

Klaus is gone and so is the briefcase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was so short! And don't worry, this isn't over. I'm just leaving a sweet cliffhanger for you guys. Now prepare for a long end note!
> 
> Gosh, I just want to thank all of you that have stuck through the long waits and uhh continuity errors (sorry about those). I'm so thankful to everyone that commented and showed their support! I hope you guys can join me again in the next installment of this universe.
> 
> I need your feedback guys. Are there any characters you guys want to see more of in the next story? It will take place in this universe after Klaus comes back from Vietnam. The three main characters I'll be focusing on are Klaus, Ben, and Dave. If you want me to keep it up with Diego, Five, and Vanya as the second-most present siblings, feel free to comment down below. Alternatively, if you guys want me to give them a break and instead have Allison and Luther have a stronger presence, then also please comment, and I will strive for that! Basically, I want to try and incorporate some of your wishes/ideas into the next one alongside my own goals. I'd love to hear from you guys some more. Your support and encouragement are what kept me writing!
> 
> Now, I probably won't start uploading the next story until the second season airs. This is both because the new season is bound to inspire me and also there's a bit of a lull in the fandom right now. Of course, there's a chance that I'll binge-watch the first season again and start writing immediately, but it's not super likely. Regardless, this story holds a special place in my heart and I'm very excited to see where the second one goes.


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